Let's Talk About IT
by the.casket.was.bigger
Summary: "I am sexually frustrated!" Kurt blurted out, cheeks turning crimson before the final syllable left his lips, because, holy mother of God, did he really just say that out loud? He cleared his throat awkwardly. "And could you please pass the salt?"
1. Prologue

**WHOOOO! Smut time. Hello there, reader, thank you for entering the world of awkward, funny, and hopefully hot sexy tiems (I spelled that wrong on purpose). Allow me to explain: **

**I have always had a bit of a hard time enjoying Klaine smut (unless it was written by skintightsocks on livejournals, because, I mean, _Goddamn_!), mostly because I am a big believer in keeping characters in character when you're writing, and as has been established in the episode Sexy, Kurt has some issues with teh sexy tiems. Adorable, awkward issues, that I decided to use in a fic, in which Kurt, who was at first, very determinedly /not/ ready for sex, starts having dirty dreams, and dirty thoughts, and realizes that, uh-oh, he has a sex drive and has no idea what to do with it. There will be hilarity. He is going to ask advice from his Nude Erections friends and family, and the advice with be entertaining. Awkward questions are going to be asked (what exactly /is/ the protocol for post-oral sex kissing?). Freudian slips are going to happen. Cosmo is going to be read. And sex, I assure you now, will occur. **

**And so, without futher adeu (is that how you spell that?), I shall leave you to go and begin this very blatantly sexual story, and hopefully you will leave me reviews in return, because whenever you review me, you make Kurt's orgasm a little better.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. If I did, it would probably just be a musical porno.**

**Enjoy:**

Let's Talk About IT

Prologue

"I am sexually frustrated!" Kurt blurted out, cheeks turning crimson before the final syllable even left his lips, because, holy mother of God, did he really just say that out loud? Trying to avoid the stares of his bewildered family members, he cleared his throat awkwardly. "And could you please pass the salt?"

How did he let it get this bad? Moving his eyes about the table, he saw Finn with a forkful of pasta poised midair, inches from his mouth, completely frozen. His Dad was clearing his throat over and over again, staring determinedly at his plate. Carole was almost smirking, and Kurt could have sworn she was trying not to laugh as she passed the salt his way, which he took quickly, and busied himself with it, avoiding everyone's eyes.

It hadn't been like this before. He thought back to that day in his room with Blaine where he had all but stuffed his fingers in his ears, saying, "Fingertips. That's as sexy as I get." And then, not soon after (and he was still a little suspicious of the "coincidental" timing), when his Dad threw down pamphlets on the counter, and he really _had_ stuffed his fingers in his ears, because seriously? The 'S word' was embarrassing.

He was a romantic. He liked things like candlelit dinners and sweet, gentle kisses under the moon, and in the rain, and during sunset – and the whole concept of tonsil hockey, touchy-feely, completely exposed, sticking what _where?_ – eluded him. He knew the basics – boy likes girl, or girl likes girl, or, in this case, boy likes boy, and together they get naked and stick various things in various orifices. But the technicalities? He had no clue.

Sure, his Dad had given him "The Talk" (after he had – reluctantly – removed his fingers), and had told him to look through his pamphlets and let him know if he had any questions, of which Kurt agreed to full-heartedly, and then had gone upstairs to his room where he had promptly shoved his pamphlets into his bedside desk drawer, not wanting to know any specifics any time soon.

It wasn't as though he was _without_ a sex drive – not exactly. Despite the fact that his voice sometimes made dogs go crazy, he _had_ gone through puberty, and just like any other boy his age, he had gotten those awkward, "Oh, hey there, Imma just do this right in the middle of class/at the dinner table/when there are a lot of people around" hard-ons. He had tried experimenting a little, taking a few hints from Finn's browsing history, which he had stumbled upon one day when his own computer had gone screwy, right in the middle of bidding for a McQueen shirt on eBay. Once he had figured out just what the sites Finn had been looking at _were_ (apparently "redtube" wasn't a knockoff of YouTube after all), he had scoffed, and held it over his stepbrother's head to occasionally get things he wanted. But it was also a learning experience, as he found himself typing the same into Google.

Like he had told Blaine, he just didn't _get_ porn. He stared, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as he tried to understand what was so hot about watching strangers act poorly in scripted scenes written so badly they made Kurt cringe, and then to watch them bone each other with various camera angles, while making noises Kurt himself could never fathom making. He wondered what was so different about him, compared to other people, who seemed to be perfectly content to get their self-pleasure on, while Kurt got more erections in French class than in front of his laptop screen.

Masturbation was another adventure entirely. He had tried it all of two times. Two. Twice. That was it. The first time he had had been in the morning one day in the summer, when he had woken up with a bit of morning wood, and he was still groggy enough to not talk himself out of it. After seven solid minutes of amateur touching and moving and just in general fapping, Kurt's mind was filled with nothing but, "This is awkward."

The second time had actually been prompted by something. He had been up late one night, way past everyone else, and had been browsing through an online men's clothing catalogue, scoffing and ooh-ing appropriately, when he found himself thinking about how attractive some of the male models were, and all of a sudden, WHOOP! _Hey_ _there_.

He had actually gotten into it a little bit, or at least by "get into it" it meant that he was able to think "this feels pretty alright". But right before he really let himself get lost in the act, he was suddenly overcome with an intense feeling of _reality_. Sexy male models be damned, because all he could see in his head now was himself, with his dick in his hand, jerking himself off, in the middle of his bedroom, with the ceiling fan light on, which is how Kurt learned his only real sex-related knowledge – nothing is a bigger boner kill than realizing you're literally fucking yourself.

And that was why he had come to the conclusion that, even if he had a minor sex drive (and let's be honest, comparatively, it was _very_ minor), he had no interest in the mechanics of sex.

That was, of course, until he started dating Blaine Anderson.

How had a new boy toy suddenly led to the most awkward dinner discussion of his life? It was nothing Kurt could have predicted. When he had first gotten with Blaine, it seemed like smooth sailing. They were both content with where they were in their relationship – Blaine already knew of Kurt's discomfort with the whole sex things (again, _fingertips_), and honestly, neither of them wanted anything to go too far and mess up the good thing they had going. Not yet, anyway. So sex was so far off of Kurt's mind, that even when they kissed (and truth be told, they kissed a _lot_), he never worried about it going much further.

No, it wasn't anything Blaine had done specifically, or really, anything Kurt had done either. Now, as he picked at his over-salted vegetable medley, praying to a God he didn't believe in that no one at the table asked him to elaborate, Kurt could only pinpoint the beginning of all this on one thing.

It had all started with a dream.


	2. The Fantasy

**Heeeeey! ;D**

**So yeah, this is just a sort of set-up chapter, so you understand how this all began. Bigger, harder, wetter, more important things will come later, but this chapter is indeed important. And kind of funny, or at least I think it is. I shall update with the next chapter asap (I'm working on a lot of fics here, though, and I have a job, and a social life, though, so bear with me! :( ). And remember: Reviews make Blaine's penis really, really hard.**

**Disclaimer: Glee's not mine, as shown by the blatant lack of Klaine sexy tiems in the show itself.**

The Fantasy

_There was so much touching going on. Every nerve in Kurt's skin was hyper-sensitive to every bump, swipe, pat, and rub that came in contact with him. Blaine's hands were equal parts rough and smooth, like a musician with callous battle scars, and a knack for using hand lotion. The dapper's hot and heavy body pressed up against Kurt's, making his own body temperature rise to dangerously high levels. Blaine's breath came out on Kurt's neck, the distant hint of coffee still lingering. Kurt moaned loudly as his boyfriend's tongue licked his jaw line, and his lips kissed and sucked at exposed skin._

_They were both stark naked, lying on top of one another and balancing like building blocks. Kurt had to bite back a scream as one of Blaine's roughly smooth hands reached down and grasped his erection tightly. Kurt felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge, as Blaine's hand jerked him off faster and faster._

"_Say my name," his boyfriend whispered into his ear, but Kurt was so lost in the sensations he forgot how to put syllables together to make words. "Say it!" Blaine's thumb was now rubbing at the tip of Kurt's penis in a circular motion, and Kurt knew he wouldn't be able to hold on much longer._

"_Bla-" he started, but faltered, breath shallow._

"_Not good enough," Blaine mumbled harshly, face pressed down close. "_Say_. _My_. _Name_."_

_And that did it. Kurt went spilling over the edge in a mind blowing orgasm, it filling every bit of his body, from the tips of his toes, to every hair on his head. His breath hitched, he inhaled sharply, and then let it out, shouting the name,_

"_BLAINE!"_

Kurt propelled forward in his bed until he was sitting upright. He blinked a few times and looked around groggily, trying to get a sense of where he was. Beside him, the digital alarm clock on the bedside table was going off, making an obnoxious "NRR NRR NRR NRR" sound, as the time "6:00" glared up at him. He switched the alarm off and rubbed at his eyes, trying to understand why he woke up feeling so flustered.

It didn't take him long to get his memory back. The dream he had just had came fluttering into his head, causing his cheeks to go bright red at the thought. The blush was only worsened when he realized that he had, um, a _situation_ underneath the covers.

"Oh God," he muttered to himself, as he shifted uncomfortably, throwing back his blankets and tossing his legs over the side of the bed.

Wasn't he a little old for this? Sure, he had had the occasional wet dream when he was just starting to go through all the fun, bodily changes that came with adolescence, but they had pretty much stopped entirely by the time he was fifteen, and with all of those, he never really could remember what had set him off, or if anything had, it maybe being just his body being an asshole. But this time? This time was clearly prompted by something, and he was very determinedly trying _not_ to think about it, because, seriously, he was pretty sure he had just had his first ever sex dream, and Blaine Anderson had been a major character.

He almost felt guilty, not that it was his fault or anything, but it was a little intrusive to be picturing someone _that_ vividly, doing things _that_ dirty, and then having such a physical response to it. Really, he didn't even know where it had come from. "Say my name"? He was pretty sure that was just something he had seen in one of the three porn videos he had suffered through, it suddenly coming up from his subconscious to give him a very uncomfortable morning. And the whole Blaine-jerking-him-off thing? Where had _that_ come from? When had he, in any way shape or form, suggested to himself, aloud or otherwise, that he wanted Blaine's hands anywhere near his penis?

He shook his head. Just thinking the words "hands" and "penis" in the same sentence were enough to make his stomach flip-flop embarrassingly, and he was pretty sure he looked like a groggy Bob the Tomato. Trying to shut his mind up, he got out of bed and quickly went into the bathroom to go take a shower (God knows he needed it), shutting the door and locking it tightly behind him.

It's said that a lot of great ideas come when you're in the bathroom, probably because it's a time where you have complete privacy, without the nuisance of people butting in on your train of thought. It's a time to let your mind run wherever it wants to go, with no provocation. But, as Kurt soon learned, if you're trying hard _not_ to think about something, alone in the shower is the last place you want to be.

Scrubbing one of several hair products in his hair and rinsing, Kurt soon found himself, much against his will, thinking about how, in his dream, Blaine's body had felt so warm and inviting…

He clinched his eyes shut tight, thinking things like, "FRENCH HOMEWORK" and "DAD'S AUTO-REPAIR SHOP".

But even when he got his attention focused elsewhere for a moment, his mind always drifted back to how Dream Blaine's tongue felt as it moved across his skin, and how his hands had felt so real that Kurt could have sworn it was happening in real life, and…

Uh oh.

A new situation arose when Kurt's junk suddenly sprang to life, as if to say, "I'm enjoying this train of thought, please continue." This seemed awkward beyond measure. Hadn't he just had this in his sleep? Wasn't it a little soon for his body to want more? He didn't know how these things worked. All he really knew was that if he couldn't get his mind on something else soon, he was gonna end up going to school with a major erection problem.

"FINN KISSING RACHEL", "MIKE CHANG TRYING TO SING", he thought these things as loudly as he could, as he applied the next hair care product to his scalp, trying very hard to resist the urge to reach down and just solve this problem with his hand. He was _not_ going to jerk off to inappropriate thoughts about his boyfriend without his consent. He didn't care if other people did that – thought about other people naked and in compromising positions to get off and stuff – to him it just felt creepy. It was one thing when it was strangers in a male model catalog, but he _knew_ Blaine, and would have to face him later, like, to his _face_. No, he couldn't do that – it was bad enough he had dreamt about it. And so, "THE CLEARANCE RACK AT TARGET", "TATER TOT REBELLIONS", "_NAKED WOMEN_", but none of it was loud enough or unsexy enough to drown out the thoughts of, "Blaine's hands", "Blaine's coffee breath", and "Blaine's enormous penis".

He stood there in the shower long enough for the water to start to run cold…

Aha! He had heard the expression "cold shower" in context to calming down when things got too heated (namely that time when all the guys had been using Coach Beiste as a way to cool off, and ew, no, he wasn't going to think about _that_, no matter how effective it may be), and, hey, he was _in_ a shower! It was worth a shot.

Turning the temperature as low as it would go, Kurt braced himself as his previously comfortable and warm shower suddenly turned to ice. Every hair on Kurt's body stood on end, as his nerves shouted out not-so-subtle "FUCK YOUs". He stood his ground, his mind successfully taken off of Blaine's naked body, and instead, focused on his own, which was _freezing_. But after a minute or two, he found his 'problem' remedying itself, and after a little while longer just to make sure everything was in its rightful place, Kurt dared to turn the water off all the way.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit," he muttered under his breath, the cool air from the air conditioner hitting him like gunshots as soon as the water was off. He fumbled out of the shower and wrapped himself up in a big fluffy towel, rubbing his shoulders to cause heat friction. Boner officially killed, and dirty, awkward thoughts officially buried underneath "AHHH, IT'S COOOOOLD", Kurt went back into his room to get dressed for school.

The rest of his morning had been enough of a distraction that his mind never wandered back to uncomfortable territory. His father had had attempted to make pancakes since he had the day off, it ending with disastrous results, it ending with the smoke alarm going off and Kurt having to help his father scrape off charred pancake batter off the pan, while Finn poured everyone bowls of cold cereal.

His first two periods of the day had been just as eventful, as he had a book report presentation to worry about doing in his English class, and a guest speaker in History. It wasn't until he got to math did his mind start to wander.

He wasn't exactly bad at math, but he didn't enjoy it all either. He got the general concepts, could follow the formulas, and could get A's and B's, but listening to the teacher drone on about "carry the one here" and "do the quadratic equation here" was pretty much the worst thing ever, next to watching paint dry. Hand pressed up against his cheek, so bored he wasn't even caring about all the oil and dirt that may get onto his face from the contact, Kurt began to space.

At first it wasn't anything that bad. I mean, he had thought about _kissing_ Blaine before, that wasn't that big of a deal. It wasn't even that creepy, because there's nothing _too_ stalkerish about reliving real memories in your head, even if you do it over and over again. Kurt was just having a nice recollection time, tracing his thoughts back to their last make-out session, when he was suddenly overcome with the thought of, "I wonder how big his penis _really_ is?"

That's all it took to send the images from his dream spiraling back into his mind's eye. He found himself consciously comparing Dream Blaine's penis against how realistic it may be against Real Blaine's penis, and at the thought, his _own_ penis stiffened up a little. He was entering dangerous territory. The last thing he needed was another incident like that morning, only this time it would be in math class, where there would be no shower to stop him.

"Kurt," Mercedes whispered from the desk right next to him, making him jump. "Kurt, didn't you hear Mrs. Thompson?"

"Huh?" Kurt asked stupidly.

"Pop quiz. Get out a piece of paper and a writing utensil."

Kurt looked up at the board and saw his teacher scribbling down a few math equations on the board that he was presumably supposed to write up and figure out. Groaning slightly, he buried his hand in his bag until he found his red math notebook. He flipped it open to a blank page, barely paying attention, his mind still on curious questions about Blaine's size, because honestly, that was a lot more interesting than math problems.

He looked in his bag again, and realized, with an annoyed sigh, that he had left his pencil box in his locker.

"Mercedes," he whispered. His friend turned her head toward him. "Mercedes, do you have a penis I could borrow?"

Mercedes let out a harsh chuckle, causing a few people to look over. She glanced around sheepishly, and then looked back to Kurt. "I beg your pardon?"

"Pencil!" Kurt corrected immediately, his cheeks growing hot. "_Pencil_. Do you have a _pencil_ I could borrow?"

Still chuckling, Mercedes reached in her pocket, and then tossed Kurt a purple mechanical pencil. Kurt muttered an embarrassed, "Thanks," hoping his friend didn't notice how red his face suddenly was, as he forced himself to tear his mind away from the dirty thoughts (he knew it was a bad idea to think about it in the first place – Goddamn math had to throw him off), and started his pop quiz, mind completely focused on factoring and "x equals negative b, plus or minus the square root of b squared minus four ac, all over two a". _Hot_.

Face still a little flushed with guilt by the time the bell rang, Kurt put away his materials, picked up his bag, and walked with Mercedes to her locker, vowing not to think about his morning or that section of math class ever, ever again.


	3. The Desire

**Chapter Notes:**

**AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Oh dear God, I apologize profusely. I was eaten by a Writer's Block Monster, and the past two weeks have been filled with amazing adventure, and tremendous termoil, and I trekked my way through the belly of this beast, trying to find a way out. And look! I totes did! And I have a chapter for you to prove it! I hope it is entertaining enough to make up for my tardiness in updating, and I will try my hardest to be considerably more promt with the rest of the chapters. Also, reviews make Kurt's body ready, and the more you leave, the more ready he gets. Just sayin'. ;D**

**Disclaimer: If Glee were mine, it'd be a Klaine porno. As it is, it is not.**

**The Desire**

"…And I mean, we all know that I am much better for the part than Rachel Berry ever would be, but of course, Miss Queen Diva herself has to throw a temper tantrum every time something doesn't go her way-"

"Dude, Kurt, that's my girlfriend you're talking about. Give it a rest, would you?"

"I'm just saying, Finn, that even after two full years of Glee Club, you and Rachel are still getting the majority of the solos."

"Not true, man, you guys get to sing all the time."

"Yeah, but not nearly as much as you two." Kurt stopped arguing with his stepbrother long enough to look to the other boy who stood beside him. "What do you think, Blaine?"

"Um," Blaine floundered, wondering if Kurt realized that asking him, the lead singer of pretty much all of the Warbler's songs – especially now since the duo lead at Regionals the year before hadn't won them anything – about equality amongst members of Glee Club, was sort of futile. Thankfully, Kurt was still too riled up, and Blaine was too slow on the uptake, so Kurt just kept talking as if he never asked Blaine anything.

"You would think that after the huge debacle at Nationals last year-" he shot a pointed look at Finn. "-that there would be a change in solo hierarchy, but no…" and so it went. Kurt's awkward situations had all but subsided once his diva kicked in – the perfect anecdote it seemed. He even had been able to admire his boyfriend's form-fitting blazer, which he loved so much, without an inkling of a blush or inappropriate thought.

"Hey boys," Burt Hummel's voice rang out into the living room, closely followed by the older man himself. Kurt stopped complaining mid-sentence, much to Finn's (and yeah, Blaine's too) relief. He smiled at his father.

"Hey Dad, thanks for letting Blaine come over for dinner," he said, his tone going from 'diva' to 'son' in .02 milliseconds.

"He's always welcome," Burt said sincerely.

"Thank you, sir," Blaine said.

"Dinner will be ready in an hour or so. Why don't you guys go practice singing or talk about relationship stuff or whatever it is you do, for a while. I'll call you all down when it's time."

The boys agreed.

The three of them headed off upstairs. Finn gave a brief nod before abandoning the other two to go into his own room to go waste time however Finn usually wasted time, and Blaine and Kurt went into Kurt's bedroom, leaving the door open the slightest of cracks to abide by Burt's "DOOR IS FUCKING OPEN WHEN BOYFRIEND IS OVER" policy.

Kurt plopped himself down on his bed, and Blaine sat next to him, smiling gently.

"You still upset?"

"Immensely," Kurt said melodramatically with a pout – only slightly joking. Blaine put a hand on the small of his boyfriend's back in a cute, sympathetic gesture.

"Puh-leeze, Kurt," he said. "You know you are just as fabulous, if not _more_ fabulous, as Rachel Berry. You have _nothing_ to be jealous of."

"Except her constant hogging of any and all solos," Kurt said pointedly.

"Well, there's that. But think, in a year, you and I will be living it up in New York City, and who-got-what-solo in high school won't matter anymore."

"Rachel will be in New York too," Kurt pointed out flatly.

"Well, yeah, but it's a big city-"

"I bet you anything she'll be at every audition I go to, and will try out for all the same parts-"

"-Isn't there some sort of gender discrepancy there? I doubt they'll be the same parts-"

"-and of course she'll get all of them, and my career on Broadway will be nothing but 'Rachel Berry's Understudy'-"

"Kurt, I doubt-"

"-and I'll audition for non-Broadway stuff, and she'll get all the parts there too. Just because."

"Kurt-"

"You know what happens then, Blaine? Do you?" He looked at Blaine expectantly, who, hesitantly, shook his head. "What happens is she ends up world famous, and I end up poor and lonely."

"You won't end up poor and lonely, Kurt," Blaine assured.

"No?" the other boy asked skeptically.

"Nah. I'll be with you. We'll be together, so there's no way you'll be lonely… You'll just be really poor."

Kurt picked up a pillow and slammed it into the back of his boyfriend's head. "Thanks a lot!" he said, trying to sound angry, but unable to suppress a smile.

Laughing, Blaine replied, "Hey, don't get mad at me! I'm just being realistic. No way you can expect me to support you. Not if you can't get anything more than 'Rachel Berry's Understudy'. If Kurt Hummel can't get a role, then _surely_," he pointed to himself with exaggerated gesturing. "Blaine Anderson is screwed."

"You know, normally, I'd object to that, tell you that you're pretty close to being as fabulous as me, and if you went to the right audition, then there's a possibility that you might possibly get a role when I am suffering beneath an old high school nemesis, but as it is, I'm completely distracted. Did you know that you are really cute when you refer to yourself in third person?"

Blaine grinned. "That was totally the point I was trying to make there, Kurt. I'm glad you caught it."

"No need to get cocky, now. I'm just trying to be optimistic. You having adorable quirks just reminds me that if I'm going to be a poor and miserable artist in New York City, at least my boyfriend will be cute. Unless you age badly, of course – you know, receding hairline, wrinkles, a loss of adorability in your quirks. In which case, my life will simply be pointless." Now it was Blaine's turn to hit Kurt with the pillow. "Hey, careful, you'll mess up my hair!"

"Then don't talk bad about mine!" Blaine argued, laughing. He patted his hair gingerly with his hand. "There, there, don't listen to any of that 'receding' talk that mean man over there is saying."

"My God, Blaine, I really hope your hair isn't actually sentient. But, I guess with all that product you put in it, a chemical reaction might have mutated it, and maybe it came to life. Please tell me I'm wrong, I'm not sure I could handle that."

Blaine stuck his tongue out. "Please, you wish you had hair like mine."

"My hair," Kurt said sassily. "Is magnificent. And I use at least 80% less product than you, so mine," he flipped his head in a diva move. "Is (almost) all natural."

"Almost."

"More natural than yours."

And suddenly Blaine had a hold of Kurt's shirt and was pulling him forward until their two faces were only inches apart. "Well, natural or not," Blaine muttered, his voice pitched much lower than before. "You know you _love_ my hair." He gave Kurt a quick peck on the lips before adding, "And all my quirks… And Blaine Anderson loves your quirks and hair too."

"Okay, no more third person talk. I lied, it's more creepy than cute," Kurt said a little breathlessly. "And let go of my shirt, you'll wrinkle the fabric.

Chuckling, Blaine let go of the shirt, and instead, wrapped his arms around Kurt's neck. They were close enough that Kurt could smell the hint of coffee on Blaine's breath that always seemed to be there, and just like that, his mind flew back to that morning he had vowed never to think about again. So much for _that_ policy, because having Blaine up against him like this made it impossible to not remember his dream. He couldn't pull away, though, even if part of him really wanted to, before things got too heated, but Blaine's lips were now on his, and that was just too perfect to tear away from.

Shakily, Kurt wrapped his own arms around Blaine's waist and let his boyfriend guide them through the kissing. Blaine's teeth gently grazed over Kurt's lower lip, and his tongue slipped in Kurt's mouth, and Kurt had the strange urge to groan. _Groan_? Since when did he ever have such _primal_ instincts? He refrained, but that didn't stop other parts of his body from responding to the physical contact/mental image combo.

His skin started to heat up, his stomach began to flutter, and his heart began to pound, as Blaine just took the kiss deeper and deeper – so deep that Kurt didn't even care that Blaine's hands were now running through his hair, surely messing up the meticulous style, because it was all he could do not to jump Blaine right then and there. Not to mention, he was hard. Like, legit hard, and getting harder, with every nibble, hair pull, and lick Blaine placed on him. He was used to being somewhat aroused by making out, but Kurt never got this excited, and certainly not this quickly, when they were together. He was happy that Blaine's eyes were closed, because if he had been looking, he would have seen just how red Kurt's cheeks were. He angled himself as inconspicuously as he could, so that Blaine would not bear witness to his _situation_. (His third… and a half?... situation of the day, no less.)

Finally, it was almost too much. The only thing that was in Kurt's head was, more or less, "Penispenispenis. My penis. Blaine's penis. Our penises together. Penis.", and if he didn't stop this make out session soon, his _penis_ was going to cause a really awkward situation for him. He pushed Blaine's torso away from him, and broke their kiss with a sloppy smacking sound.

"_Why_?" Blaine pouted, his eyes still closed. Kurt had to smile at that.

"My door's still open. Dinner will be soon," he said as calmly as he could (which was not easy), as he took Blaine's closed eyes as an opportunity to shift himself around in his pants. "Besides, you totally messed up my hair. If I don't fix it, then my Dad will be suspicious."

Sighing a very melodramatic sigh, Blaine nodded reluctantly and opened his eyes. "_Fine_," he said, pouting his lip out. "If we _must_."

Kurt managed to calm his body down enough that when he went to go fix his hair in his bathroom a little while later, Blaine was none the wiser, and before they knew it, it was time for dinner, and Kurt was silently thankful he had stopped the session when he had.

Dinner that night was grilled lemon pepper chicken, with a side of a mixed greens salad coated in some sort of berry flavored oil dressing, and a fruit medley. It was one of the few healthy dinners that Burt knew how to make that didn't make him cringe when he looked at it. ("See, I told you you'd like it," Kurt had said, exasperated, after helping his father make it for the first time. "If you just listened to me more often then we wouldn't even have to _worry_ about your heart anymore.") The Hummel-Hudson family, plus Blaine, all sat down at the table and helped themselves – some (Finn), helping themselves more than others.

The conversation initially started as a regular, "How was your day?" sort of talk, but once Finn started talking about Glee club, both he and Blaine looked over at Kurt nervously, and Finn's statement ended up like, "Well, today in Glee Club, we were discussing sectionals, and who would get solos... So, football! It's happening, right? Football is occurring?" Burt and Carole looked a little confused, but then Blaine piped in with,

"Yes! Football! What are your thoughts on football, Mr. Hummel?"

"Uh," Burt said, scratching his head, noting the way his son rolled his eyes at his stepbrother and boyfriend. "You mean, football in general, or, like…?"

And that's how the conversation ended up on sports. Blaine, Finn, and Burt got really into it, while Carole sat and listened politely, attentive even if she was a little bored. Kurt, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less, and, just as it had so many times that day, his mind began to wander.

It wasn't until right then did he really notice that Blaine's hand was absent-mindedly running up and down his thigh. The sudden realization of his touch made Kurt blush a little bit, and he was glad everyone was otherwise preoccupied. He began to think, and God only knows why, about what that same action – that slow, unconscious stroke of the hand – would feel like against bare skin, instead of over the thick, expensive denim of his designer skinny jeans.

As he pushed around a piece of watermelon on his plate with his fork, he stared blankly, and imagined the way Blaine's rough hands would feel against the smooth of his skin. He reached for his glass and took small, mindless sips from it while pictured the image. His legs were always perfectly shaven (and he was _not_ ashamed of it), so there would be nothing obstructing the skin to skin contact as Blaine would rub against milky, soft flesh, up to his hipbone, and down again, and maybe he'd caress a little bit closer to the inside of his thigh. Maybe, his touch would infiltrate more and more sensitive skin, until finally his hand was a mere inch away from –

"Do you want my meat?"

The water that Kurt had been sipping from his cup caught in his throat, and he began to choke a little. Sputtering, trying to not cough as hard as he really needed to, he gasped out, "_What_?" He looked over at Blaine, who had been the source of the question, with a bewildered facial expression.

"My meat?" he said simply, holding up his fork, which was speared into a half-eaten piece of chicken. "I'm full."

"Oh," Kurt said, breathing a bit more regulated. "Oh, uh, no. No I'm fine, thanks."

"Hell, I'll take it!" Finn said, reaching over the table rudely with his own fork, and taking the piece of chicken from Blaine. "Thanks man!"

"Anytime."

"Like I was saying," Burt cut in. "Boxing is way more legit than wrestling. I mean, with boxing, you need agility, strategy, endurance, but with wrestling, you've just got two sweaty guys trying to break each others' neck."

"Mm, I disagree," Blaine piped up. "I mean with wrestling you might not have the same sort of strategy, but there's definitely more than just neck breaking. You've probably just watched too much WWE. Real wrestling is much more intense."

"Yeah, Burt, think about it," Finn added. "Wrestling is way more physical. You gotta get right up on the guy, like, full body contact. I bet it's a lot harder too, trying to get a grip on them, and getting them to the ground."

"Mhm, and then keeping them there."

"Right! It's not like with boxing where you can just punch 'em in the head and knock 'em out."

"Exactly."

Great. That was _precisely_ what Kurt needed – only not. At all. In fact, it was probably the last thing he needed. He silently cursed himself for allowing his attention to focus on sports' talk for more than two seconds, because now, in addition to wondering what Blaine's hands felt like, and thinking about eating Blaine's '_meat'_, he was now picturing half-naked, sweaty guys, groping, grabbing, and getting entangled with one another. _Fantastic_.

Wasn't dinner over soon?

Unfortunately, it wasn't for at least fifteen more minutes, and Kurt had to sit there and just think over and over, "Boobs. My father. Rachel getting solos and not me. McDonald's hamburgers." just to keep himself level.

"Well," Carole announced loudly, over the obnoxious banter of the other three guys who were going on about something boring and sport's related (and probably vaguely homoerotic). "I think you three have pretty much bored Kurt and I to tears, so Kurt," she grinned and looked over at him. "Would you care to help me clear the table?"

"It would be my upmost pleasure, Carole," Kurt said, a look of gratefulness in his eyes.

"Sorry," Burt said sheepishly, looking at his wife, and Blaine turned and gave the same guilty expression to Kurt.

"Don't worry about it. Continue your conversation. Kurt and I will just have girl talk in the kitchen," Carole assured. The two of them cleared off the table and went into the kitchen and started washing the dishes.

"Thank you for saving me from that," Kurt said.

"No problem. You looked pretty zoned out. I was so bored I was actually thinking about all the bills that need to get paid, and paperwork I need to do for work. What about you? What was keeping you from going insane?"

"Uh…" Kurt's mind went to the odd combination of sexy, dirty, thoughts, and the attempted boner kills he had been thinking about for the past twenty or thirty minutes. "Glee club," he decided to say. "Rachel got another solo today, and I'm just a little infuriated." And thankfully, the conversation went off in that direction.

A while later, Kurt and Carole managed to drag the boys away from their conversation, which had by then evolved into some sort of argument over which one of them would be more likely to survive a gladiator fight, and they went into the living room, where they enjoyed an hour or so of watching back-to-back rerun episodes of _How I Met Your Mother_.

"Sorry I spent most of the night talking to your Dad and Stepbrother," Blaine apologized a while later, as Kurt was walking him to his car.

"Don't worry about it. I'm glad you get along with them. It's cute."

"You think everything I do is cute."

"No. Trust me. Not everything."

"Oh shush." Blaine leaned in and gave Kurt a nice, if not a little too long of a, goodbye kiss, and he got into his car. "I'll see you in a couple of days," he said before he closed the door. "I love you."

"Love you too," Kurt replied with a smile. "Drive safely."

He waved until Blaine had turned the corner. He then went inside and practically ran up to his room. He took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed number 3 speed dial, and waited while it rang.

"What up?"

"Mercedes? It's Kurt."

"Hey Kurt, what's going on?"

"I think I may have a problem…" he trailed off.

"…Go on?"

"…I don't exactly know how to say it."

"Well, Kurt, I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong. Is it something with your family? Is someone hurt?"

"No… No, nothing like that."

"Is it about Blaine?"

"… A little… Maybe… Kind of… Yeah."

Kurt heard a gasp on the other line. "Kurt… is this a _sex_ thing?"

"…Like I said," Kurt replied, shutting his eyes tight and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I think I may have a problem."


	4. The SelfPleasure

**Chapter Notes:**

**Heyy all! I would have had this uploaded last night but I got distracted by wasting three hours teaching myself how to do a Brooklyn accent. No, seriously, that's what I was doing. I'm getting pretty good at it, too. So yay me! You don't care about that, though. What you /do/ care about, however, or at least I'm assuming you do, is sexually awkward!Kurt, because, I mean, who wouldn't care about that? :D Here is the first, in a long line, of awkward advice Kurt receives from his friends. I'm looking forward to writing the others. Just so you know, he's going to get advice from all the members of the Nude Erections, and then a couple other people. And it is going to be funsies. Mercedes is kind of a warm up, so enjoy this, and I promise it'll get saucier. ;D**

**Until then, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Is Glee now, or has it ever been, a blatant Klaine sex tape? No? Then it's not mine. Kthnx.**

The Self-Pleasure

"So spill it," Mercedes said the second the two of them plopped down on her bed. The night before on the phone they had agreed to talk about it at Mercedes' place the next afternoon, even though Kurt knew Mercedes, the ever-explosive-gossip, would be all but bursting about it the entire day. All that day at school, Kurt had felt Mercedes' eyes on him, and he knew that it took all her effort not to scream out, 'what is going on with you and Blaine and what does it have to do with sex?', but, to her credit, she had refrained herself until after rehearsal was over with, and they were at her house. But her refrain only went that far, not a millimeter further. "Spill it now."

"Ugh!" was Kurt's groaning response, his cheeks already blushing. If he was already embarrassed at this point of the conversation, he could only imagine how it would be like once they actually started discussing it. He covered his face with his hands.

"Kurt, you have not given me any details about this, making the huge mistake of leaving my imagination to run wild, so now I need you to tell me what the Hell is goin' on before these thoughts about you and Blaine get any weirder."

Kurt peeked through his fingers and said through a palm-muffled mouth, "You have them too, huh?"

"What?"

"Thoughts about Blaine and me," he explained, hoping Mercedes would get the hint. He covered his eyes up again, not able to look at his friend and continue this conversation at the same time.

"I'm not following you, Kurt."

"I had a sex dream about Blaine and now I can't stop thinking dirty thoughts about him!" he blurted out suddenly. He removed his hands, only to dive face first into a pillow, and to mumble, nearly incoherently, "Like, seriously, I can't stop. In my bedroom, at the dinner table, in math class…" he trailed off. Mercedes, not trying to be insensitive, of course, but not being able to help it either, started to giggle.

"Kurt!" she said between laughs. "Is that what your problem is?"

"_Yes_!" he said miserably.

"Kurt, that's completely – come here," she grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him to sit up and face her, his face an adorable mix of sad puppy and total humiliation. "That is completely normal!"

"It's normal to be aroused—" his voice cracked on the word 'aroused', causing Mercedes to smile sympathetically. "—at every stupid second of the day?"

"It's called a sex drive, Kurt. Congrats, you finally have one."

"I don't _want_ one!" he moaned, attempting to throw himself back onto the pillow, but getting stopped by Mercedes' grasp.

"No, no more hiding in my pillow. Look, you left a saliva mark on it – that's disgusting. You're going to sit here and talk this out with me."

"Bleh."

"Okay, so you're embarrassed because you keep having nasty thoughts about Blaine, right?"

"Sure."

"I don't see why, Kurt, I mean, I'm sure he probably has them about you too!"

Out of nowhere, Kurt threw his hands to cover his ears and shouted, "Not a helpful thought, Mercedes! Lalalalala! I can't hear you!"

"Okay!" Mercedes said, fighting Kurt over control of his arms. "_Okay_! I get it, you're not comfortable with dirty thoughts! I get it, you can calm down. Shut up, stop singing, my family is going to hear you. _Shush_!" Mercedes finally managed to get Kurt to put his arms down, and she then shoved a forceful index finger to his lips and gave a look that clearly said, 'calm the fuck down'. Sighing, Kurt resigned to the look, and stopped shouting and singing.

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Look, I don't know what to tell you other than this seems totally natural to me."

"Why am I taking advice from you?" Kurt asked. "Didn't you think you could get AIDS from cucumbers?"

"That was last year, before I had any experience in the matter," she explained, waving it off like it was nothing. "Once Sam and I started dating I got a lot more informed. I know a lot of stuff now."

"Please don't tell me."

"Whatever."

"Okay, so you're saying these thoughts and these… these, uh, these _feelings_ are natural, right? Well… then how do I get rid of them? How do I stop getting… er, how do I stop thinking about them in inappropriate places?"

"That's pretty simple, Kurt," Mercedes said, eyebrows furrowed.

"Huh?"

"I mean, don't you ever…" she looked at him expectantly.

"…Ever?"

"You know."

"No, I don't."

Mercedes looked around the room awkwardly, while she made a crude gesture with her right hand. Looking back at Kurt, she shrugged. Kurt shut his eyes and moaned, "Oh God, I hope that means 'play Yahtzee'."

"You mean you don't do it?"

"No!"

"Ever?"

"Well, like, once… or twice, but it was awful, and nothing happened, and oh my God why am I telling you this?"

"Calm down before your face catches fire, Kurt, seriously."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he exclaimed, waving his hands in front of his face. "Just… this is awkward – really, really awkward for me. I never talk about this sort of stuff, let alone _do_ it, and I just…" he shook his head miserably.

"You're making this a lot more difficult than it is."

Kurt looked defeated. "Do you really think if I… did that sort of thing… then I wouldn't think about it so much?" he asked in the quietest voice he could muster.

"Yeah, I do. What it seems like to me is that you're just sexually frustrated. If you give yourself some sort of release, then I think the thoughts would probably be less frequent."

"Is that the _only_ option?"

"Well, you could have sex with –"

"Okay! Yes, it's the only option!"

"Right."

"… Are you sure it works?"

"It worked for me."

Kurt blinked. "Wait… girls can do that?"

Mercedes blinked back. "Seriously, Kurt?"

"_How_?"

"We have hands, too, Kurt, and girls have the clit—"

"Never mind! Never mind, let's get back my problems. So you're saying that I have to… to…"

"Masturbate," Mercedes said pointedly.

"Yeah… I have to… that, in order to stop having dirty thoughts in the wrong places."

"It's worth a shot."

"How do you do it without thinking about yourself?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

Mercedes sighed. "Look, Kurt, here's what you do. Go in your bedroom or bathroom when everyone is asleep or not home or sometime when you have a lot of time and a lot of privacy, and then just take all those thoughts you've been having at the wrong times, and use them to just… you know, get yourself off. It's pretty simple."

"I don't think I could look Blaine in the face if I did that to thoughts of him," Kurt admitted.

"I'd tell you about what he probably does in his spare time, but I don't want to send you into another childish 'I'm not listening' attack," Mercedes said, smirking, causing Kurt's face to go even redder, if that was even possible.

"I liked it better when I didn't have a s-sex drive."

"Yeah well," Mercedes said with a shrug. "Welcome to adulthood, Kurt. We've missed you."

* * *

><p>Kurt got home around nine thirty that night. Carole was working a night shift at the hospital where she was a nurse, Burt had called it an early night and had already gone to bed, and Finn was in his bedroom, listening to music with headphones on at full-blast. Kurt sauntered up the stairs, the house strangely quiet, processing the information he had gathered at Mercedes'.<p>

He went into his room, sat on his bed, and looked around absent-mindedly. It was still early, so he didn't really need to go to bed. He didn't have any homework, he didn't have a Glee assignment to work on, he didn't feel like facebooking or tumbling, and he had all the privacy in the world. _What_ could he do to pass the time? He knew exactly 'what', but he wasn't sure if he was up for it.

His mind wandered back to early that day, where he had almost had to show his whole English class his boner. "Kurt, you're theatrical," his teacher said excitedly. "Why don't you come up here and read us the first few pages of _Hamlet_ to get us started into our Shakespeare unit?"

Snapping out of his intense, 'Blaine doing things to him', day-dream, he looked up, slightly horrified, before choking out, "Couldn't we hear you read just a page or two first? It takes me a little while to get into Shakespeare. I'll pick it up in a bit?" he had all but begged, letting out a small sigh of relief when the teacher had agreed with a warm smile.

Okay, so yeah, maybe he did need to do it, if only to prevent anything else like that happening. Embarrassment now, he reasoned, was better than embarrassment in front of a classroom full of his peers.

So how to start?

He looked around his room. He couldn't do it in here. Anyone could open the door. Maybe they would even be able to hear him. He knew he was alone, but he wasn't taking any chances. He'd do it in his bathroom. He got up from his bed, and walked to the bathroom, feeling like a criminal about to do something horrible.

Once he was there, he closed the toilet seat and sat. He tried to think of all the dirty things he usually thought of when he was in public places, but for some reason, while he was alone, and the thoughts were perfectly acceptable, all he could really think was, 'the bathroom light is really bright.' He stared at the wall, listening to the faucet drip.

He got up and turned off the light. The room was pitch black, and he almost tripped and broke his face as he stumbled back to the toilet seat. It helped a little, though. Not being able to see his surroundings made it easier to pretend he was somewhere else. That damn faucet, though, kept him grounded in reality.

'Blaine's hands running through my hair,' he thought, and the faucet responded, "DRIP."

'Blaine kissing my collar bone.'

"DRIP."

'Blaine rubbing my thighs.'

"DRIP."

He wasn't getting anywhere. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his iPod. Blindly feeling the headphones, he managed to fit the buds into his ears, as he turned it on. The light from the device nearly blinded him, but once his eyes adjusted, he began to go through his artist list. What exactly was the playlist to use when jerking off? He wasn't sure. Maybe something that reminded him of Blaine? So that way it would be easier to think about him? It was worth a shot.

Scrolling down, he got to the "K" section, and pressed on "Katy Perry". As _Teenage Dream_ blared into his ears he thought back to that first day he had met Blaine – how he had looked so attractive, yet so unattainable in that Dalton uniform, singing so perfectly, and how it had seemed like he had been singing directly to Kurt.

From there it really wasn't that hard to get back to the dirtier thoughts. Maybe Blaine would sing something to him, as he ran his hands up the back of Kurt's shirt, and explored the skin on his back. Maybe he would sing it right into his ear, breathily and deep, so that Kurt could feel his breath. Maybe…

Without even really realizing he was doing it, Kurt began zipping down the zipper of his tight-as-all-Hell pants that his now erect penis was trapped inside. He pulled down his pants and underwear just enough so he could get a proper grasp on himself. He was very determinedly _not_ thinking about what he was doing. Instead, he was in his own little world. He began moving his index and middle finger up and down from the tip to the base and back again, slowly at first, and then faster, images of Blaine still ever present in his head.

He was actually feeling something. He was _actually_ starting to get something out of this. He bit his lip as he wet his fingers with pre-cum, as he moved his hand up and down even faster. His iPod had long since switched songs, but he didn't care. He wasn't even really listening anymore. He was too lost in his world of "Blaine touch", "Blaine sound", "Blaine smell", and the rest of the senses as well.

Throwing his head back a little, he caught a groan in his throat, which he forced back down, still not comfortable with making noises like that. But he was enjoying himself. He most certainly was, and it was just getting better, and better, as his hand moved on his own sex faster and faster, until the build-up was so great he thought he might burst, and then –

From behind his closed eyes, he could tell the room around him was suddenly illuminated. His eyes snapped open, just in time to see Finn standing in his bathroom doorway, hand frozen on the light switch, with a look that read nothing but pure terror. There was an awkward moment where Finn just stood there staring, while Kurt just sat there with his dick in his hand, neither knowing just what to do. That moment only lasted a couple milliseconds, though, as Finn spun around, and Kurt simultaneously tried to pull up his pants and turn off his iPod. He got the music turned off just in time to hear Finn ramble,

"Oh God, oh God, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Keep doing whatever… I mean, I don't want you to keep… I'm not thinking about… God I'm sorry! I didn't think you were in there. I was just trying to find something… God, I'm _sorry_! I'm leaving!" He said all of this while nearly sprinting out of Kurt's room. From a distance, Kurt heard his bedroom door slam shut.

Kurt then, pants twisted up with the fly wide open, allowed his head to fall and make a soft 'thunk!' with the porcelain sink, as he wished, with all his heart, that he could just drop down dead.


	5. The SelfControl

**Chapter Notes:**

**What up? I think the only real thing I have to say for this chapter is that if I had Finn for a brother, I would have thrown myself out of a window long, long ago. :) Also, if you give me reviews it'll help Kurt masturabate properly. **

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Pornpornporn. I love porn. Glee is not porn. Ergo, it's not mine.**

The Self-Control

'Oh. My. God.' Kurt thought to himself, face buried deep in his hands, pants still pulled up half-assed (literally), as he could not muster enough will to adjust them properly. Or enough will to get up off the toilet. Or enough will to live. Because really? Disappearing off the face of the planet right then seemed considerably better than ever seeing his stepbrother again.

"Please kill me," he muttered to no one in particular as he forced himself to stand and make himself a little more presentable. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror and instantly regretted it. His hair was completely disheveled, tousled all over the place in a way that made him look like Heat Miser. His usually flawless skin was shining unattractively with beads of sweat, and his cheeks were still fire truck red. "Please kill me," he repeated in a devastated moan.

Head hung low in complete and total humiliation, Kurt opened his bathroom door and shuffled his way back into his bedroom, where he lifted his head and saw an awkward looking Finn sitting on the edge of Kurt's bed, all of his limbs tapping nervously. Kurt hadn't even heard his stepbrother come back into his room. He groaned louder, even more devastated, as he said, for a third time, "_Please kill me_."

Finn looked up and cleared his throat. "So, ah," he stammered. "You, uh… you finished then?"

"Yes," Kurt answered, his voice now muffled as he was currently holding a pillow he snatched off his bed, trying to suffocate himself. Realizing what he had said, he dropped the pillow to his chest and gasped. "I mean, no! I didn't… I mean, I stopped… after you came in… I didn't like… '_finish'_…" he trailed off and quickly went back to trying to smother himself.

"Oh, yeah, that's good. Well, it's not '_good_', but… you know. I didn't mean to stop you from-"

"Why are you in my room, Finn?' Kurt wailed from behind the satin of his pillow case.

"Oh, uh, I still need something out of your bathroom."

"Go get it. I don't even care what it is. Just get it and leave me alone forever."

"It's really hard to understand you when you talk with that in your face."

"GO!"

Finn started and then stood and went awkwardly past Kurt, into his bathroom. Kurt collapsed, face first, into his bed, and listened to the distant rustling of Finn rummaging through his bathroom drawers. The creak of the floorboards a minute later announced his stepbrother's return, and Kurt could feel Finn's gaze on the back of his head. When it didn't go away, he snapped, "_What_?" lifting his face just enough that Finn could get the full effect of Kurt's frustration.

"Don't you think we should talk about this?"

"What?" Kurt asked again, this time in an incredulous tone. He sat up on his elbows to glare at his stepbrother, and found Finn looming over him with a tube of toothpaste clenched in his fist. "_Toothpaste_?" Kurt asked with disbelief. "Are you _kidding_ me? _Toothpaste_? Finn, why didn't you just get a new tube out of the storage cupboard?"

"That's all the way downstairs."

"_So_?"

"I didn't want to walk that far."

Kurt stared, mouth agape, before sitting back on his rear and throwing his hands up in defeat, announcing, "That tears it. I hate everything."

"Sorry," Finn offered sheepishly.

Rubbing his temples, Kurt asked, "Again, why are you still in here?"

"I dunno. I mean, don't you think this is something the two of us should, like, discuss?"

"No!" Kurt exclaimed adamantly. "No! In fact, I think this is something we should both bury very, very deep down in our subconscious's, until our inevitable future therapy sessions for our severe bouts of PTSD that this will very surely cause, when we are forced to face the horrid, repressed memory of this night."

"That seems unhealthy."

"Finn! What exactly is there to discuss here? Let me answer that for you: Nothing! So if you would, I'd appreciate you leaving me alone so I can throw myself out my window in private."

"Come on!" Finn said, ignoring Kurt's expression, which clearly read 'homicidal tendencies likely', and went over and sat next to him on the bed. "I'm your brother. I'm supposed to be there for you when you have these kinds of problems. Besides, that fall wouldn't kill you – maybe you'd break a leg or two, but jumping from your window? You'd live."

"Finn, I can appreciate your sudden, if not poorly timed, show of brotherly affection and responsibility, but I feel I must point out that if you weren't here, I wouldn't _have_ this kind of problem for you to help."

Finn blinked a few times before casting his gaze to the floor, his face flushing a little, as he muttered, "Kurt… I thought you got over that when you got with Blaine."

"What?" Kurt asked, bewildered. Dawning realization flooded his head, and he choked out, "Oh God, no! No, no, no, that is _not_ what I meant. Not _that_ problem. I meant the whole... walking in on me thing." His face, which had already been a pretty consistent shade of very-fucking-red, got even redder. "Jesus, Finn. And I thought this couldn't get any more awkward."

"Oh," Finn said, eyebrows furrowed as he processed this. "Oh, okay, good." He smiled a relieved smile at his stepbrother, who did not, in any way, return the gesture.

"You're still in my room," Kurt said flatly, his humiliation quickly turning into irritation.

"Well, yeah, I mean, I still think we should talk about it, dude."

"What?" Kurt couldn't believe his ears. "Finn, come on, are you _trying_ to torture me?"

"No," he said honestly. "It's just… I've not always been there for you as a brother, and I need to step it up. I mean, that whole Karofsky thing-"

"Not the same thing, Finn!" Kurt interrupted. "_So_ not the same thing!"

"Whatever. The point is, you've never shown any sort of interest in sex before, and now I walk in on you… well, you know, and I'm just a little concerned, and want to make sure you're safe about it and everything. That's all."

Kurt wanted to scream. He wanted to kick Finn out of his room, and then hang himself with his belt in his closet. He wanted to go back in time and stop this all from ever happening. But despite all that, the sentimental part of him, and Goddamn it for existing, found Finn's brotherly desire to look out for him, oddly endearing, even if it made Kurt feel vaguely suicidal.

"What could you possibly have to talk about?" Kurt asked, not as frustrated, but definitely exasperated. "I appreciate it, I do, but…" he trailed off.

"I dunno," Finn mumbled, a little embarrassed, but trying to stay strong through the conversation. "Have you and Blaine… have you?"

"No." He said it flat. He also tried very hard not to look away – which proved to be easier said than done.

"Are you going to?"

"No! Well… I guess I don't know."

"…Do you want to?"

"I don't know!" Kurt wailed suddenly. "God! This is so… UGH! A few days ago the thought had never even crossed my mind, but _one_ stupid dream later, and now I can't seem to think about anything else. You know I never understood the male stereotype that we only think of one thing? But now? Now I think I'm starting to get it. But I'm clueless – _so_ clueless. I don't know how you bring up the topic with a partner. I don't know how to actually do the act. Hell, I can' barely even mastur- masturbate properly." He blushed at his stutter.

"I mean come _on_," he continued in a rant/ramble fashion. "Like you said, sex has always been the last thing on my radar. The prospect of actually doing it? That is… horrifying at best. There are so many things I don't understand. Like, what exactly are the different duties of a 'top' versus that of a 'bottom'? And isn't oral sex a little… _unsanitary_? And what if you do it and you still want to kiss your partner? Like, on the mouth? Is that acceptable behavior? Oh God! What if I give Blaine… what if I do _that_ to Blaine and then I try to kiss him afterward and he's so grossed out that the mood is completely killed and he decides I'm too gross to have sex with? Or what if?" he gasped, eyes wide with terror. "I do that… that _stuff_ and I decide _not_ to kiss him, and he thinks I'm just being cold and distant, and then convinces himself that _I'm_ disgusted with _him_ for some reason, and the mood is completely killed, and he decides that _he_ is too gross to have sex with?" Kurt finally stopped. He heaved, catching his breath. Finn looked red and horrified, clearly debating his previous insistence on discussing Kurt's problems after listening to the mess of awkward concerns tumble out of his stepbrother's mouth.

"Dude," he managed to say. "You said all that in like, two breaths."

"Thanks!" Kurt snapped angrily. "Thanks so much for your help, you can please see yourself out now!"

"Hey! Hey, calm down a second, would'ja? I'm sorry! I'm just not used to hearing and thinking about what it's like for… you know, people like you."

"People like me? You mean gay kids?"

"Yeah, I do, but listen, I'm trying here, okay? I am. I said I'm here to talk to you about your problems, and I meant it. I want to help."

Both boys took a second to pause and try and remember just _how_ the fuck they had gotten into this awkward conversation in the first place.

"Then help me," Kurt said finally.

"Yeah… yeah, okay, well, first off, Blaine's a really cool dude, so even if you are really awful at sex, I'm sure he'll probably still love you."

"Gee, thanks Finn," Kurt said in response to his stepbrother's way with words – or lack thereof.

"Er, I mean, he'll _definitely_ still love you. Look, there is really only one think you absolutely have to be able to do when you're having sex, and that is you have to be able to hold back."

"_Hold back_?"

"Yeah, like… don't dump the truck at the first stop? Don't _come_ to the party early… get it?" Kurt groaned, covered his face with his hands, and nodded reluctantly. Yeah, he got it. "Good! Seriously, learn how to do that and you'll be golden. Everything else you'll get by lots of practice." Kurt peeked through his fingers just in time to see his stepbrother wink.

"How?"

"Simple," Finn said with a wide grin. "Just think of the opposite of what you're doing."

"I've tried that – like, when I get hard," his voice went up an octave at the word. "In inappropriate places. It doesn't work."

"Then what you're thinking about isn't strong enough," Finn assured. "Everyone has something that is their own, special buzz kill."

"Do you have one?"

"Sure I do!" Kurt listened as his stepbrother told the story of his first ever driving experience.

"Remind me to never get in a car with you ever."

"Relax, that was the first and only time I ever hit anyone, and he ended up just fine once he got out of the hospital. Regardless, you have to find something that fits you. It's like finding the perfect pair of jeans."

Although he appreciated the inclusion of his own interests in Finn's attempt at being helpful, he still was having a hard time figuring out what his so-called 'buzz kill' would be. He voiced this. "I can't think of anything."

Finn cocked his head to the side thoughtfully. "Hmm… how about," he said slowly. "Me walking in on you masturbating?"

Kurt immediately pictured the pained horror on his stepbrother's face as he took in the image of Kurt's fun-times straight on. At the thought, Kurt felt his stomach lurch, and even though it was already very flaccid, his penis got even limper.

"Perfect."

"See!" Finn exclaimed, slapping Kurt on the shoulder. "I told you talking about this was a good idea!"

"Uh-huh. Hey Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"Just how many women have you slept with?"

"I'm not a virgin, if that's what you're asking."

"Yes, everyone in Glee club knows that you slept with Santana, but aside from that one time, have you had any other experiences?"

"I've done… a lot of groping?"

"You haven't slept with Quinn or Rachel?"

"…No."

"So all the advice you're giving me is from a single experience?"

"Well, yeah, but when you put it that way…"

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Look, Finn, I appreciate your help. I really do. I'll take it all to heart, but truly, I think it's long past time you got the Hell out of my room."

"Promise me you won't jump out of your window when I leave?"

"Promise."

"Cool." He stood from the bed and went over and opened the door. Just as he was about to leave he paused and turned back to Kurt, just long enough to add,

"You know, I don't know what you were talking about when you said that thing about not knowing how to masturbate properly. It seemed pretty right to me."


	6. UPDATE

**UPDATE:**

**Hey, . here, being a total dickweed, because I know it sucks to see that one of your story alerts have updated, just to find out that they are just telling you unpleasant things. Unfortunately, I felt it necessary. I'm just updating to let you know that I just moved into a college dorm, and have been/will be doing college like endeavors for a while, and thus, updates will be considerably more sporadic. That said, I still have every intention of finishing, so I hope you don't lose interest. I will try my best not to put too much space in between updates, but my workload is pretty insane (17 credit hours, plus one part-time job, and maybe two other jobs if I get them), so please forgive me if I am tardy. I adore Klaine with all my heart and soul, but academics must always come first. I love you all, and I hope you stick with me. I'm anxious to see this story to the end just as much as you, if not more.**

**Anyway, until then, go entertain yourself with your Klaine tag on tumblr (because you know you track it), and I'll try and get you some reading material asap.**

**Ta-ta for now, readers!**


	7. The Mechanics

**Chapter Notes:**

**WELL LOOK WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS.**

**Finally an update. This chapter was incredibly fun to write, because I got to play with a character dynamic that I have been dying to play with for ages. ^.^ Also, parts of this were actually more awkward to write than the Finn-walking-in-on-Kurt-solo-sexytiems, so you have that to look forward to! Thank you so, so much for all your reviews thus far, and remember, every time you leave a review, Kurt thinks about oral sex. 8D**

**Oh, and on an unrelated note: On the off chance that there are any "Handling It" readers on here, who are waiting for the second part of chapter 10 - I have not forgotten about it. This story is just easier to write, so when I have limited time, this is the one I work on. But I will have an update for you, though, I promise. It's sort of a personal mission to finish both of my WIP, if only so I can start new ones, cuz I have a bajillion ideas. xD Anyway, thank you for putting up with me. I love and adore you, yadayadayada.**

**Anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: GLEE ISN'T MINE BECAUSE SEX.**

The Mechanics

Thinking about Finn seemed to work like magic, as for the rest of that God-awful night, and during the next day at school, whenever Kurt even got an inkling of a Blaine-related, dirty thought, he would feel that soul-crushing embarrassment that comes with having your step-brother see you jerking-off, all over again, and his dick would remain stationary in its place. At this rate, Kurt thought, maybe he would never have a sex drive again. He wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing.

Blissfully un-erect, Kurt was having his first decent day all week. He found it laughable that he almost wanted to thank Finn (almost), but, of course, as things usually were in Kurt's life, the bliss was not long-lasting.

"Come with me to my house after Glee Club to practice this week's assignment." Right before Glee was about to start, Rachel stepped right in front of Kurt's face and spat this out at him. Jumping at the sudden, 'BLAM! RACHEL!", Kurt put a melodramatic hand across his chest.

"Jesus, Rachel," he breathed, glaring.

"Can you come over?" she asked, ignoring his annoyance.

"Uh," Kurt racked his brain, trying to remember his schedule on the spot. It was Thursday. Blaine had work on Thursdays, and he had done most of his homework during his free-period, so, "Yeah, I can." He then added, with a tinge of snark, "I'm impressed, Rachel. Finally you're realizing superior talent exists. I'll offer you as much help as you need."

"Oh please," Rachel said with the same level of snarkiness. "I think you're mistaking just _who_ needs the help here." And she walked away, but not before Kurt caught a glimpse of a self-satisfied smile on her face, making him feel just a teensy bit uneasy. He had agreed to just go practice… right?

Glee club was uneventful. With the week's lesson being – incidentally – 'lending a helping hand', all of the song choices thus far had been forced and preachy. The class ended with Tina getting cutoff from singing her yawn-worthy, emo-pop song to Mike – something about him saving her from herself or some shit (no one was actually listening), and Santana was the one who interrupted, butting in with an annoyed, "Oh my God, do you ever sing about anything that isn't about your totally stereotypical Asian sex buddy? You can stop now! We get it!" and from there things just got awkward, so Mr. Schu decided to call it a day.

"Meet me at my house?" Rachel confirmed after Mr. Schu gave a brief lecture on 'respect for each other', and everyone started filing out of the room.

"Mhm," Kurt agreed as he swung his one-strapped back over his shoulder.

Rachel clapped her hands together, and exclaimed, "Great!", and Kurt didn't miss it when she glanced over to Finn who was waiting for her by the door, and winked. The uneasiness returned, and Kurt was suddenly very suspicious of Rachel's intentions. But before he could voice his concerns, his frienemy was already on the other side of the room, hand-in-hand with his stepbrother, heading out into the hall. It seemed as though Kurt would have to ignore his instincts this time. With a worried expression, Kurt followed them out the door.

* * *

><p>"This is an intervention." Kurt had just stepped into Rachel's, made-for-a-three-year-old bedroom, where she pushed the door closed tight behind him.<p>

"I beg your pardon?"

She gestured toward her bed. "Sit."

Hesitantly, Kurt walked over and sat on the very edge of Rachel's bed. Rachel herself did not sit, however, opting instead to stand directly in front of Kurt, arms crossed, face severe.

"I talked to Finn."

"_Oh_ _God_." That was all Kurt needed to hear. He wasn't sure what it was that Rachel wanted to say, and really? He didn't care, because if Rachel had talked to Finn about what he was certain she had talked to Finn about (he made a mental note to put rat poison in his stepbrother's breakfast cereal later), then this conversation could only be about one thing. Kurt suddenly realized that he was about to have an awkward discussion about the 'S' word. Again.

He looked for an escape, but Rachel was blocking him from the door entirely, and short of knocking her down and stepping on her – and he wasn't sure he was above doing so – there was no way to get away from this so-called 'intervention'.

"Rachel, I don't need-" but she cut him off.

"Kurt, what you do in the privacy of your own home is no concern of mine, but after talking to Finn, I came to the conclusion that you must be very sexually frustrated." Kurt idly wondered if it was possible to suffocate oneself by not breathing. Probably not, he reasoned, but maybe he would at least pass out. He took a deep breath and held it as Rachel continued.

"I realize that this is a new experience for you, and you may be confused, or even a little scared, but let's step back from that for just a moment to focus on how this is affecting _me_." Kurt let out his breath and heaved a couple of times, but Rachel was on a roll and didn't notice. "Do you realize," she went on, her arms wrapped so tightly in a 'pay-attention-to-me' position, Kurt wondered if she was going to break her ribs. "That if you become the victim of unrequited sexual frustration, then your focus will eventually stray completely away from Glee Club, and, who knows? Maybe performing all together, and Kurt, with you distracted by the need for physical affection, I'll be left with no true competition anymore. And not like when you quit and went to Dalton, because even then we were still competing. This time you would be completely withdrawn from trying to make yourself believe that you could possibly be better than me, and thus, I will grow bored, and will have to go on to bigger things than Glee. You need to fix this problem, Kurt, for yourself, for the entirety of the Glee Club, and, most importantly, for me."

"Are you smoking crack?" was the only thing Kurt had to offer as a response.

"You aren't taking me seriously."

"No, I'm taking you very seriously, and I seriously think you're smoking crack."

"Kurt-"

"No, it all makes perfect sense now. I mean, only a crack addict would think that the clothes you wear on a daily basis are _actually_ appropriate to wear in front of _actual_ people. The pieces are finally coming together, Rachel, and listen to me, because I'm here to tell you that there's hope. They have treatment centers now. We can get you admitted to a rehabilitation center. _We can get you better_."

"Kurt, you sound like Coach Sylvester going on a rant to Mr. Schuster or something. Look, I am not smoking crack. I just think this is a very big, important, personal problem, and-"

"Yes! Exactly! It's personal! Personal, as in, you need not bother yourself with it because it is _my_ problem!"

"Kurt, I've been here, okay? I've seen what a preoccupation with relationships and sexual health can do to a person's drive to succeed in the performing arts, and while I managed to take on an oath of celibacy, and maintain a conditional romance with Finn, while managing to balance my drive to be better than everyone else in every aspect of my life, I'm just not so sure you have the same self-control. So really, Kurt, there is only one true solution here."

"In the name of all that is sequined and designer, what in the Hell are you talking about?"

"You have to have sex with Blaine Kurt," Rachel said with a somber tone. "For me."

"Okay," Kurt said, jumping to his feet and trying to maneuver his way around Rachel. "I'm leaving now. The secondhand crack pipe fumes are too much for me."

"No, no, no, hear me out," Rachel begged, pushing on Kurt's shoulders until he was sitting again. "This is important."

"Rachel, I'd say I appreciate your concern, but I really, really don't. Whether or not Blaine and I have… do that… _stuff_, is truly none of your business. I will tell you this much – I'm not ready. I don't know when I will be, but it's not right now. Until then, any feelings or _frustration_ I might have, I'll deal with, okay? Probably by distracting myself with better solos than yours." He couldn't help but add that last part.

"Kurt, if you're feeling sexually frustrated, then maybe you're closer to ready than you think you are," Rachel said gently. "Finn told me how unwilling you are to talk about the issue, and how inexperienced he said you seemed. Now, I know I'm not the one to ask about the… the 'mechanics' of everything, but out of concern for you, me, and all of Glee club, and in honor of this week's lesson, I took it upon myself to ask someone to talk it out with you, in order to answer any questions you might have, in hopes of making you more comfortable, and more willing to put your energy into performing."

"Oh God," Kurt said nervously, heart thumping wildly in his chest. "You didn't talk to Blaine about this, did you?"

"Kurt! No! Of course not! I would never do that to you."

Kurt began a sigh of relief.

"The someone I asked, or, I guess, the _two_ someones I asked were my two gay dads. They were ecstatic to help. They're waiting downstairs for you. Let's go."

Kurt's sigh of relief got caught in his throat, and ended up coming out in a loud sound that was a mix between a dog's squeaker toy, and a baby seal getting stabbed to death.

"You. Did. _What_?" he managed to get out through clenched teeth. He stared at Rachel in horror, who seemed to not notice Kurt's discomfort in the slightest. She held her hand out to him and smiled expectantly. Kurt gaped at her. "There is no way I am going to go talk to your dads about sex, Rachel, and if you think any differently, then you have lost what little was left of your mind."

"Come _on_, Kurt," Rachel said, as though this was a completely normal request, and Kurt was overreacting. "They want to help you! This is important. I mean, you'll have to learn it sometime, and if you're not going to talk to Blaine about it, then where else are you going to get the information?"

"There is no discussion about this, Rachel. I am not, will not, never will, talk to your dad's about the mechanics of gay sex."

"Kurt…"

"No, Rachel! Jesus, this thing has gotten so out of hand. A few days ago, this was just an awkward dream I had one night, and now I've had more awkward conversations in one week than I ever thought possible. I'm done now. I'm leaving." Kurt stood up again and hurried to get past Rachel before she could push him down again. Grabbing his bag and flinging the door open, Kurt set out to leave the house, with Rachel close behind him saying, "Kurt! Come back! This is good for you! It'll be good for me! Come back!"

He turned to go down the stairs, and just as he did so, he came face to face with Rachel's gay dads, who were both standing on the stairs like they had been intending to go up to Rachel's room to go check on them. One of them was carrying a tall glass of ice water, while the other one was smiling a wide smile that was almost disconcertingly creepy.

"You must be Kurt!" the one holding the glass exclaimed. "We were just coming up to see if you were ready for our little chat. Here, this is for you." He handed Kurt the water, who took it with a look of terror, not sure how he should be reacting, and trying to quickly figure out the best way to bolt out the front door from his position there at the top of the stairs.

"I'm sure you have lots of questions for us," the other one said, taking Kurt by the shoulder and leading him down the stairs in such a way that he had no means of escape. Tense at the touch, he had no choice but to allow himself to be led to the living room, where they offered him a seat on a recliner. He sat down in spite of himself, while the other two took the loveseat right across from him.

The atmosphere was awkward and tense, and Kurt was trying to figure out how he had gotten intercepted and taken here so quickly. After everything that had happened in the past few days, however, he figured it wasn't that surprising.

Rachel's dads were nearly on top of each other, they were sitting so close, and they had their arms wrapped each other's waists. They were smiling at him patiently… and a little scarily.

"Nice, uh… furniture?" Kurt muttered, trying to keep the conversation as far away from sex as he possibly could.

"Thank you!" they said in unison.

"Rachel insisted on plush. She said her nightmares would be full of cows chasing after her crying if we got anything leather," one of them added, while the other nodded somberly.

"That's fascinating," Kurt said to his lap, where he was staring determinedly. "Um, this is a little uncomfortable, but I should probably just let you know that whatever Rachel told you I need to talk about is not-"

"Stop right there, we understand completely," one of them said. "Rachel told us how you don't have any experienced homosexual males to talk to about the mechanics of sexual intercourse, and we were more than happy to help you out with your problem."

"Look," Kurt said, daring to look up. "I don't really need-"

"Nonsense, we're more than willing to tell you all we know." The two men exchanged a lustful smirk, and Kurt tried the whole stop-breathing-in-order-to-pass-out-or-possibly-die thing again.

"To get started, maybe it would help for us to know how much you do know about homosexual sexual intercourse."

Kurt stared up at the ceiling, thinking about how it would almost be better if they used terms like, 'rockin' gay butt sex', or something like that, because the technical terms were making his stomach churn. "Not much," he said shortly.

"Well that's unsurprising if you've never been in a situation that warranted that sort of information before, but Rachel told us all about Blaine-"

"— which is just wonderfully adorable, by the way—"

" – and we know that at your age, the social pressures to participate in sexual intercourse," Kurt's stomach actually _lurched_. "Are enormous, and sexual frustration can definitely be a result of that."

"So don't feel any shame."

"No, none at all."

"Because everything you're feeling is completely normal and you are definitely not alone."

"Thank you," Kurt said, still talking to the ceiling. "Now, I'm just going to leave, and-"

"Now, the mechanics of homosexual sexual intercourse," one of them continued, completely ignoring Kurt. "Are not that different from straight sexual intercourse."

"The holes are just different!"

Kurt was sorely disappointed that his efforts to cut his brain off from oxygen were not making him unconscious, because he was sure he would much rather suffer brain damage than hear the word 'intercourse' one more time. There was no way in Hell he was ever going to go to Rachel's house again. Not after this. In fact, he might just opt to stay in his bedroom underneath the sheets for the rest of his life. He didn't think there was anything worse than Finn walking in on him masturbating, but now that this was happening, he felt it important to point out to the Universe that there had been no need to prove him wrong.

"The key is to just be careful."

"And to use protection."

"Do you know how to put on a condom?"

They waited for Kurt to respond. "I'm sure I can figure it out," Kurt said to the cracks in the ceiling.

"Make sure you do. It's vital."

"If you're going to be participating in anal sexual intercourse–"

"And of course that's not everyone's cup of tea—"

"Then make sure you use lots of lubrication and take it slow. The key to a healthful intercourse session is to make sure both parties are comfortable and safe."

This was so much more explicit than Kurt could have ever imagined. He could barely even say the word 'anal' without fearing his face would catch flame, so to hear two grown men – the _parents_ of one of his closest friends, no less – was pretty much the worst thing that had ever happened to him. And his mother was dead, so that was saying something.

Despite his discomfort, though, he couldn't help but take in some of the information. Condoms and lubrication? Were these things that he would actively have to go to the store and put on the counter and buy in front of a cashier, while trying to not run away in utter embarrassment? Maybe he could make Blaine buy them. Was that courteous? What were the ethics of condom and lube buying? Were they similar to the ethics in post-oral sex kissing? He still didn't know the rules of that. Maybe he should ask them? Yeah, like that was likely.

"And that is why dental dams are good to have on hand as well," one of them was saying. Kurt was so lost in his own preoccupations he was surprised when the other piped up with,

"So, do you have any questions of your own?"

Finally tearing his eyes away from the ceiling, he looked over at Rachel's dads, who were still staring at him like they expected him to start spouting off a million gay sex related inquires, still seemingly unaware of just how dreadful this entire situation was for Kurt.

"After you have oral… oral… after you do that things with your mouth," Kurt managed to say, surprised entirely by the sound of his own voice. _Was he actually asking these men a sex question_? "Can you still kiss?"

The two men chuckled. Not in a mean way, but in a, 'd'aww, you are cute and inexperienced!' sort of way, and one of them was just about to answer the question when Rachel came out in the living room holding up a phone.

"Auntie May is on the phone for both of you," she said, going over and handing it to one of her dads. Kurt saw this as a perfect opportunity to bolt.

"Wellit'sbeenfun. . Thankssomuchforyourtime," he said in a rushed, what-the-fuck-are-words sort of way, before jumping to his feet and leaving the room as fast as he could without actually running, but rather doing a sort of ungraceful power walk, before any one of them could stop him. He thought he might have heard one of them calling after him, but he didn't care. The way Rachel's dads' voices said the word 'intercourse' was permanently ingrained in his mind, and he was not too happy about it. On the contrary, he was embarrassed and mad as all Hell. He ran out of the house, jumped in his car, and nearly killed three or four pedestrians trying to get home.

Once he got to his house, he stormed in the front door and thundered up the stairs, not bothering to say hi to Burt and Carole who were left to stare dumbfounded at him from their spot on the living room couch, as he disappeared up to the second floor.

Not even bothering to knock, Kurt flung Finn's door open, and found him sitting at his laptop air drumming to some classical rock song. He jumped in surprise at the sight of his stepbrother glaring at him from the doorway. He looked even more confused as Kurt raised a hand and pointed it menacingly at him.

"I don't know when," Kurt said, in a quiet, but terribly harsh voice. "I don't know how. I don't know where. But somehow, someway, I swear on Alexander McQueen's grave, I will _kill_ you."

And with as much sass and anger as he had coming in, Kurt stormed right back out of Finn's room, leaving him staring after him like a deer caught in the headlights, not sure what he had done, but knowing his life was now very much in danger.

**End Chapter Notes:**

**Yeah, so, I apologize for not naming Rachel's dads, and just referring to them vaguely. It felt weird giving them names, and it's not really important outside of this chapter, so I hope it worked. If not, I give you license to kill me. (No I don't. Please don't kill me over a fanfic. That's a little obsessive.) **

**Oh, and writing for Rachel is my favorite thing ever.**


	8. The Techniques

**WELL HOLY SHIT LOOK AT THIS. Several months later. My apologizes. School is kicking my ass, but hey, I promised you I'd keep working on this, and thus, I am. Here is the next installment of "Let's Talk About IT". This chapter is fun, and not quite as awkward as the others, so you can read it without wanting to cry in empathetic humilation, for once. :D I will try to update sooner next time. I hate it when stories I'm following don't update quickly, and I hate to be a hypocrite. That said, spare time is sort of non-existent for me right now, so everything is tentative. Additionally, I hate that this story is no longer in canon-verse, because of the new season, but oh well. I started it before everything new came into place, so I'm still claiming it to be sort of canon. Deal with it. xP**

**I love all of you, and remember, everytime you give me reviews, you not only get me closer to 100 reviews (which, holy shit, yay!), you also make Kurt get all hot and bothered thinking about going down on Blaine. ;D**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Sex. Porn. Etc.**

The Techniques

Kurt managed to successfully give Rachel the middle-school girl silent treatment for an entire week. It hadn't been easy, especially when it came to explaining to Blaine why he was grumbling and refusing to respond every time Rachel sent him a text message. "Glee solos," he'd mumble in a tone of voice that said 'don't ask details or else', and Blaine knew better than to pry.

Finn and Kurt weren't exactly on the best of terms either, but at least the silence between them was mutual. Kurt wasn't speaking to Finn out of anger, and Finn wasn't speaking to Kurt out of terror. Eventually, Finn had deduced that Kurt's anger was because of what he had told Rachel, and even Finn knew that it was better to let Kurt cool off on his own time, than to try and force him, and inevitably meet a very sassily executed, early grave.

All of his built up anger did have a plus side. Kurt was so annoyed and frustrated with his stepbrother and his frienemy that his sex drive had officially gone from "I'M SUPER OBNOXIOUS, NOTICE ME!" to "Eh." Not to mention, even in times when his sex drive did try to make a comeback – say when his mouth was connected to Blaine's – picturing Finn's horrified "Oh God, you're masturbating and I'm seeing it," face, and Rachel's Dads', "The holes are different!", were instant boner-kills.

But, like his life had proven time and time again, his luck was fleeting.

"Hey Hummel, come here a sec. We want to talk to you." It was after Glee club, where Kurt had sat in the back row brooding, and trying to set Rachel's head on fire with his mind. Just as everyone was leaving, Santana spoke up and beckoned Kurt over to where she and Brittney were standing side-by-side.

Confused, Kurt shouldered his book bag and went over to the girls. "How can I help you ladies?" he asked.

"Fashion emergency," Santana said simply. "We need your help asap."

"With what, may I ask?" Kurt asked, eyebrows furrowing. Out of everyone in Glee club, Santana and Brittney were certainly not the most fahshionly-challenged. Even still, he was intrigued by the notion of being called upon in a fashion emergency.

"I've got this thing and I need help finding an outfit for it," Santana said off-handedly, moving her hand in a dismissive wave. "Can you come over or not? Brittney's place."

"Yeah," Kurt agreed, nodding his head. "I'll meet you there."

"For the love of McQueen, I cannot believe I fell for this again!" Kurt groaned.

The three of them were at Brittney's house, and Santana had just ushered the three of them into the blonde girl's bedroom, and locked the door behind her. She stood with her arms crossed, blocking the door, saying, 'Kurt, this is an intervention.' Kurt instantaneously knew what this was about.

"Santana, I don't know what Rachel or Finn told you, but I'm telling you, I do not need help with anything. Please move. Please let me go."

"Okay, first of all," Santana snapped. "Finn and Rachel didn't tell me about this. Anyone who paid enough attention could see that you are tragically suffering from what I like to call 'a desperate need to hit that'. You and that little hobbit-in-a-blazer need to get freaky, like _now_.

"Second of all," Santana didn't seem to notice that Kurt looked about ready to kill her. "You totally need our help. Have you looked at yourself? Rachel Berry has more sex knowledge than you. And that, Hummel, is really, really pathetic."

"What are you going to do to me? Are you going to tie me up and make me watch porn or something? Or… oh _God_, no I am not, simply _not_, going to do anything sexual with the two of you, even as practice, because I know that's something you guys would do, and I'm not okay with-"

"Relax, Hummel, we're not trying to screw you, or make you watch porn." Santana went over and grabbed Kurt by the shoulders and led him over to Brittney's bed. She pushed him down gently, and Kurt, reluctantly, sat down. "Just sit back and let Auntie Santana and Auntie Brittney give you a little sex-ed."

"I'm really good at giving the talk, Kurt," Brittney assured, speaking up for the first time. "I had to give Lord Tubbington the talk after he kept having kittens with all the stray cats around the neighborhood. Now he knows to use protection."

Kurt gaped as Santana patted Brittney on the shoulder and said, "That's right, sweetie, now go and get the stuff for Kurt."

"Stuff?" Kurt asked, horrified, as Brittney nodded and went over to rummage through her desk drawers. "What stuff? What are you going to do?"

"Relax, Hummel. I told you, no one's getting kinky in here. We're just getting you your textbook for sex-ed 101."

"Textbook…?" Kurt trailed off as Brittney pulled out a thick pile of magazines from one of her drawers. She handed them to Santana, who promptly handed them to Kurt.

"Everything you need to know," Santana said happily as Kurt looked them over. He wasn't sure if he should be humiliated, relieved, confused, or intrigued.

"Cosmo?" he asked stupidly.

"Don't say it like that!" Santana said, aghast, as though Kurt had just spoken blasphemy. "What you're holding in your hands right now are sacred sexy-time technique manuals. They are the secret behind all the moves to that drive guys crazy. Guys think the chick's just really good in bed, but what he doesn't know, is that every month, she's getting new lessons from Professor Cosmo. This is perfect for gay guys, too," she added. "I mean, leaving out the stuff about the vag and boobs, everything in these magazines can be done by a guy, to a guy. It's like a handbook for horny chicks and gay boys."

Kurt read the covers of all the magazines. While he could appreciate the various celebrities posing on the front, and was interested in the fashion tips they hinted were inside, he couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by the, "HIS 6 SECRET SEX SPOTS" and "78 WAYS TO TURN HIM ON" and especially "50 THINGS TO DO BUTT NAKED".

"This is intimidating," Kurt said, looking down at Lady Gaga, posed around the words 'THE SEX ARTICLE WE CAN'T DESCRIBE HERE'. How many ways, Kurt thought but didn't say, could there possibly be to touch a person? Well, according to Cosmo? A shitton.

"Oh please, this is nothing," Santana said. "Nothing but a goldmine of information. Don't look at it as 'omg, how can I remember all this'. Think of it as, 'omg, look at all the things I can learn to _do'_." She smirked at Kurt's widened eyes.

"Just make sure you don't do all 50 things at once," Brittney said, pointing at the Lady Gaga cover Kurt was still looking at. "I tried that once, and the guy started crying."

"Oh God," Kurt squeaked.

"You'll be fine," Santana reassured him. "Trust me, you need this."

"No I don't!" Kurt tried to insist, but the cracking of his voice gave him away. He cleared his throat. "I'm not ready to have sex, Santana, and ever since Rachel… well, I haven't had any sexual frustration problems in a while."

"Not ready for sex? Please, that's like saying you're not up to breathing. _Everyone_ is ready for sex. Seriously, I've said this before, and I'll say it again, if everyone just put out, _so_ many things would be fixed. And as for not having any sexual frustration? Yeah, not buying it. Maybe you've, I dunno, suppressed it or something, but Hummel, you practically _smell_ like desperation. Take the magazines, do your homework, and then apply them. Trust me, your hobbit will love it."

"Santana," Kurt started, but Santana held up her hand.

"Save it for someone who can't read past your awkward little virgin boner, Hummel." That shut Kurt right up. "Take them, read them, _do him_," Santana ordered. "And then report back to me with all the details."

"I wish everyone would just leave me alone to deal with my own problems," Kurt muttered.

"Yeah, well, if we did that, you'd probably end up with carpel tunnel from jerking yourself off so much."

"I doubt it," Kurt said under his breath, thinking of how his hand had done nothing of the sort since the bathroom incident, but Santana didn't hear him.

"There, that's all we wanted. You can go now." Santana finally stepped away from the door. Kurt looked at it stupidly.

"Are you seriously just going to give these to me and let me leave?"

"What? Why, did you want to have a little friendship circle where we sit around and discuss how sex changed our lives, and how it's such a big step?" She looked at Kurt like he was crazy, and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, screw that, Hummel. We don't need to _talk_ about anything. Everything you need to know is in those magazines. Talking about it would just be a waste of my time."

As much as Kurt wanted to shove Santana out a four story window for bringing him to Brittney's place under false pretenses, he had to admit that he appreciated her, "kthnxbai", attitude.

"Um… thanks," he said, standing up and heading towards the door.

"Anytime," Santana said, grinning.

As he was leaving Kurt heard Brittney say, "Why isn't there a magazine for sweet lady kisses?" and then he heard Santana quickly shush her. Best not to think about it, Kurt thought. He headed down the stairs where he came face to face with Lord Tubbington, who looked up at him with a face that basically said, 'I feel your pain'. Kurt nodded at the cat, feeling foolish, and then hurried out of the house, a pile of Cosmos in his hand.

"Dear God, I don't even know what half this stuff means," Kurt groaned to himself, leafing through a particularly graphic explanation of however-many-ways to suck a guy's dick (or whatever the title was). He had read all of the obscure number of tips they had, and not one of them mentioned if he could kiss his partner after having his partner's penis in his mouth. That seemed like a vital piece of advice.

He flipped through page after page, taking in more information than he ever could do with actual schoolwork. Cosmo was actually sort of nice. He could read all about sex, and if he got too uncomfortable (which, come on now, didn't take that long at all to happen), he could flip to the fashion section and feel right at home.

Plus the tips were so exact. "Put your hand here" and "Do this with your tongue". He could get behind that. None of the awkwardness of discussing it with his friend's parents. None of the highly vivid visuals of porn. Props to Santana – she had given him the first useful advice.

Of course, one problem had stemmed from this. Reading about every different way a guy could be touched put some "thoughts" in Kurt's head, and, just as Santana had predicted, his sex drive was back in a flash, and he felt a little flushed reading about all the ways he could touch Blaine, or Blaine could touch him, or whatever. For a second, Kurt wondered, maybe if he locked the door this time, if he could go into the bathroom and…

"Dude, are you reading Cosmo?" Kurt jumped several inches in the air, startled into a jolt.

"Finn, haven't you learned your lesson about knocking on my door?" Kurt snapped, heart thumping wildly in his chest. Thankful he was lying on his stomach and his stepbrother couldn't see what was going on down near his waist.

"Well… yeah, but your door was cracked, and I thought…"

"What do you need, Finn?"

"Burt sent me up here to tell you dinner is ready… seriously, are you reading Cosmo?" Finn was eyeing the cover of the issue Kurt had propped up in his hands. "6,000 WAYS TO CARESS HIS GINORMOUS ERECTION", or something. Kurt blushed.

"It's for the fashion tips, let's not mention this again, tell Dad I'll be there in a second," Kurt said hurriedly, closing the magazine and tossing it aside.

"Uh… right." Finn turned to leave.

"Hey, Finn," Kurt said. His stepbrother turned back around.

"Yeah?"

"If you talk to her tonight, tell Rachel that if she apologizes, and promises to never ever bring up what happened ever again, I'll consider talking to her again."

"Oh thank God," Finn said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Do you know how much I've had to hear about how she was 'just trying to help, why doesn't he realize I was just trying to help'? It's been _constant_."

"Yeah, well, tell her I appreciate the sentiment, but hate the execution."

"Uh, can I just tell her you're over it?"

"That works too."

"What about us? Are we cool?"

Kurt thought about it. "Yeah, I guess we're 'cool', as it were."

"Cool."

"But Finn?"

"Yeah?"

"That doesn't mean not to watch your back. Rachel pulls anything else, it'll be your head that rolls." And with that, Kurt waved his stepbrother out of his room, adjusted himself until he was presentable, and went downstairs to join the family, a pile of Cosmos waiting for him upon return.


	9. The Attitude

**WELL HOLY SHIT WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE? **

**I know. I know I know I know, I haven't updated in ages. I will have to admit it is largely because the new season of Glee is slightly less compelling, and it makes my stories non-canon, which bothers me, but alas, I recently remembered that, HOLY SHIT, I still love Klaine. So even though they have, SPOILER ALERT, already had sex in canon, and Blaine is in New Directions and is the incorrect age, and even though they got rid of Zizes to make way for pervy Puck/Shelbie funtime, I have decided to continue on with my stories, because I would like to see them have an end. So here you are. A new chapter to "Let's Talk About It" to start the New Year off right. xD **

**Leave me comments as proof that you have not all left me because I'm an ass who doesn't update fast, and because Klaine sex.**

**P.S. Any "Handling It" readers out there - I'm working on it. Stay posted.**

**P.P.S. If there are copious amounts of typos in this, please forgive me. In interest of fast updating (irony? probably.) I didn't edit as closely as I should have. Any super glaring ones, let me know and I will fix promptly. Any small ones? Well... don't be picky. I'm a journalism major. I promise I understand grammar.**

**Disclaimer: YOU KNOW THIS ISN'T MINE SO WHO DA FUQ CURR?**

The Attitude

Shamelessly (or maybe not so shamelessly), Kurt had all of the Cosmos read by the end of the next week (and maybe, just maybe, he had sent out his subscription order already). Sporting not only a few new looks from the fashion sections, Kurt carried with him a new array of information, which made him stutter unattractively whenever Blaine asked him during their before-bed phone calls, "What have you been up to today?"

But Kurt decided, with all the seriousness in the world, that Blaine could. Not. Know. Where they going to have sex in the near future? He didn't let his mind wander that far. All he knew was that this was not something he could talk about to Blaine's face. Screw what daytime talk shows and advice columns said – when the word "sex" is barely able to escape past lips without a crack, Kurt reasoned, conversation was not the best method. He had already been pulled into several talks (and overall situations) that he could have lived without, and he wasn't going to force himself into a talk with Blaine until he was certain he knew where he wanted all this – whatever it was – to go.

So of course, when Kurt saw Puck and Lauren Zizes standing idly by his car after school that day, he was less than thrilled, previous experience telling him exactly how this was about to end.

"No," he said immediately as soon as the two trouble-makers were within earshot. He crossed his hands over his over-the-shoulder-vintage-expensive-fashionable-man-bag and raised an eyebrow.

"You don't even know what we want to talk to you about, Hummel," Puck said defensively, while Lauren grinned and absent-mindedly patted her boyfriend on the Mohawk.

"This is either what I think it's about, or you're trying to rope me into something illegal. Either way, I'm not interested. Could you please move away from my car?" Kurt said shortly, trying to step in between Zizes and Puck, who were side-by-side in front of the driver's side door. They didn't budge.

"Hummel, look, my girl and I? We just want to talk to you, okay? That's it. It won't take long," Puck started, as he crept to one side of Kurt.

"Yeah," Zizes continued, creeping up to the other side of him. "Just come take a walk with us. That's all we want, and then you're free to do as you please."

Not quite sure as to how it happened, Kurt soon realized that both Puck and Zizes had death-holds on his shoulder, and were starting to guide him away from his vehicle. He was friends with the two of them, sure, but Puck's bad boy rep, and Zizes wrestling history made trying to escape a less viable option had it been someone like Artie. So, feeling defeated, Kurt let out an exasperated,

"Make it quick." As the two other Glee club members led him off the parking lot. They walked off the sidewalk, and when they started going down a steep hill, Kurt got a little concerned. "Where are you taking me?" he asked nervously.

"To our spot," Puck said simply, and Zizes pursed her lips in a smug looking smile as agreement.

"Great," Kurt mumbled. "If I get my outfit dirty, I will end both of you."

"Calm your shit, pretty boy," Zizes said, rolling her eyes, her arm not on Kurt up in the air to help her keep balance on the hill. "We'll get you back to your car looking just as Mr. Clean as you do right now."

The tramped through weeds and tall grass, which indicated this wasn't part of school grounds, as no one had seemed to have mowed it in ages. They got to level ground, and Puck and Zizes led Kurt to a seemingly random looking cement tunnel.

"We're not going in there, are we?" Kurt asked, peering inside of it. It was dark and damp, and smelled like mildew. A tiny stream of water was running through it, and from what he could see, there was an excess of spray painted graffiti lining the inside of it.

"Calm your shit," Zizes said again, and they gave him a not-so-gentle push forward.

Once they were inside the tunnel, Puck took a pack of cigarettes out from his back pocket, knocked it on his palm a couple of times, and then pulled two of them out once they appeared from the package. He handed one to Zizes, who reached into her cleavage and pulled out a lighter.

"Hot," Puck mused, grinning wickedly, as Zizes lit up her cigarette, and then reached over to light his.

"You guys, I do not want to go home smelling like cigarette smoke," Kurt began to complain.

"Then stand back," Puck suggested, blowing a controlled stream of smoke off to the side.

"I don't want to stand in here at all, so could you please just tell me what you want so I can go home. I'm supposed to meet Blaine in an hour at the Lima Bean."

"Yeah, this about your little Warbler boy, Blaine. I was talking to my girl Santana-" Puck started, and Kurt let out an instantaneous groan, which Puck seemed to disregard. "And she said that you're gonna try to get yourself some with that boy toy of yours. That true, Hummel?"

"Why is everyone so interested in my sex life?" Kurt asked, but he didn't say it to Puck or Zizes. Instead, he said it to the ceiling of the tunnel, in a voice of soft disbelief, and misery.

"Look, Kurt, we don't really care what you're gonna do in bed with that prissy blazer boy of yours," Zizes chimed in. She took a drag on her cigarette, and said, "In fact, we don't even care if you _ever_ even fuck the guy."

"Yeah," Puck picked up. "What we care about is your attitude."

"I beg your pardon?" Kurt asked. His hands had already automatically gone up to cover his blushing face, and he was amazed he hadn't broken out yet from all the oils from his fingers, since this had become a pretty common reflex for him as of late.

"Your attitude, man!" Puck said excitedly. He waved his cigarette in the air as a gesture, as he exclaimed, "I mean, think about it, Hummel. Practically everyone in the Glee club, with the exception of Berry," he gave small look of puzzlement and mumbled, "I still don't get why I didn't get a piece of that Jew candy," before Zizes elbowed him and he continued with his story. "Has gotten laid. Freaking all of them, Hummel! We have a Glee club that is entirely made up of people who are confident in themselves and their bodies and their… their… their sexy, man!"

"I am so confused," Kurt said, staring blankly through his finger web and the excitable figure of Puck.

"What my baby here is trying to say," Zizes spoke up. "Is that we want our Glee club to be the toughest, most bad, most confident club out there to be competitive, but we can't do that unless all of our members are giving 100%."

"Are you saying I'm not confident?" Kurt said, lowering his arms a little so that Zizes could see his incredulous look. "Because I am definitely confident in myself. And besides, what does this have to do with… you know, sex? You just said that Rachel is a virgin, too. Did you bring her down here to give this speech to?"

"Pfft, you kidding, Hummel?" Puck asked, chuckling. "The last thing Berry needs is a pep talk on how to be more confident. No, you, Hummel, are the only one who needs this conversation."

"What in the world are you talking about? I walk with my head high. I am who I am, and I'm not ashamed of it."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah, gay pride and all that shit," Zizes said, waving her hand dismissively. "Please, Hummel, we're not talking about whether or not you love your gayness or not. We're talking about your sexual confidence."

"What does that have to do with Glee club?"

"_Because_," Puck said exasperatedly. "A lot of confidence in other stuff comes from a high sense of confidence in your sex life, bro. I mean seriously, look at this way, if you can't even say the word sex without turning the color of a tomato and covering up your face, like you're doing right now-" Kurt shuffled his feet guiltily. "-then how can you expect to be able to like, I dunno, give off an air of sex appeal and sexy confidence in a performance?"

"I… I dunno. I want to be an actor. I'll act it," Kurt muttered, uncertain as to what to say. He didn't expect Puck and Zizes to actually have a point.

"That's what we're saying here, Kurt," Zizes said. "Like we said, we don't care if you and blazer boy actually get it on or not – it may _help_, and why the Hell wouldn't you? – but all we want to do is tell you it's time for an attitude change."

"But… but…" but no good arguments to the contrary came to him.

"Hey, maybe this could even help with that Warbler kid, anyhow," Puck offered.

"What do you mean, "help"?" Kurt asked.

"Well, think about it. Maybe the reason you two haven't gotten busy with each other yet is cos of your attitude, you know? You're not willing to accept yourself as sexual, so it just doesn't come up between you guys. I bet if you stopped acting like sex is the scariest thing ever like a flippin' middle schooler, you'd have a much better sex life."

"Not the most eloquent way to put it, Puckerman," Kurt muttered. "But maybe there's something to that."

"Being sexual isn't bad, Kurt," Zizes said, in an oddly sympathetic tone that made Kurt take notice. "We all have sex drives and urges and all that shit. Just stop being suck a little pussy about it, and accept it. You may be confident in how you dress, and how you act, and how people see you, and all that shit, but until you can take this step, you're never gonna be a badass."

"Couldn't have said it better myself, baby," Puck said. Zizes grinned at him, and said,

"Down boy, not 'til the student's gone."

"I don't know how to be confident in that way," Kurt said after a few seconds. Puck and Zizes shrugged.

"Have you tried, like, masturbating?" Puck suggested.

"Let's not talk about that," Kurt said, pinching his nose.

"Look, Kurt, it doesn't matter how much sex you have, or how many times you touch yourself at night. If you're not able to admit something as simple as, 'I'm sexually frustrated' to your own face in the mirror without turning red, then it's time to make a change. Read books, or blogs, or whatever pansies like you do to get comfortable about these things. It's about how you see it, not how you do it."

"It's how you see it, not how you do it," Kurt repeated.

"Yeah, now take that advice and get the Hell out of here."

"What?" Kurt asked, surprised by the abruptness of her command.

"Yeah, Hummel, that's all we wanted to you about. We actually came down here to smoke some week, so unless you wanna smoke a toke with us-"

"I don't," Kurt assured them. He gave them both a nod and an awkward, "… Thanks." before heading out of the tunnel and back up to school grounds, considering what they had told him, and what he was supposed to do now.

* * *

><p>"I am sexually frustrated. I am sexually frustrated. I am sexually frustrated." Kurt was standing in his room, holding a hand mirror to his face, saying the words over and over again until they no longer seemed obscene. "I am sexually frustrated." His after school date with Blaine had been pretty short, as he couldn't stop thinking about what Zizes and Puck had told him, and Blaine could tell his mind was somewhere else.<p>

A knock came at the door to his bedroom. Kurt sat the mirror down beside him and said, "Come in."

"Hey, Kurt," said Finn, as he stepped hesitantly in the room. "I remembered to knock."

"Congratulations, Finn, you've learned basic etiquette."

"… Thanks?" he asked, looking confused.

"Never mind, what do you want?"

"Burt told me to tell you it was time for dinner."

"I'll be down in a second."

Kurt stashed his mirror away in the drawer that held his Cosmos, and he headed down the stairs to the dining room, where his family was already seated.

They dished up their plates, Finn taking more than everyone combined, and everyone around him began idle chitchat, while Kurt thought about Zizes', "It's how you see it, not how you do it." He was sexually frustrated. He was. That much was evident. So why was that such a big deal? Zizes had even said it herself – everyone gets sexual urges, so why should he be any different. It was as natural as breathing, Kurt was telling himself, as normal as air.

'I am sexually frustrated, I am sexually frustrated, I am sexually frustrated,' he thought over and over, the phrase becoming nothing more than muddled syllables in his head.

"What are you thinking about so intensely over there, huh kiddo?" Burt's voice rang out, unexpectedly loud, causing Kurt to jump nearly six inches in his chair, and blurt out, with no provocation,

"I am sexually frustrated!"

There was a deafening silence in the air while Kurt realized what had just come out of his mouth. 'It's how you see it, not how you do it,' he tried to tell himself, but the awkwardness was still hanging low to the ground at the kitchen table, his family members staring at him like he was insane. He said the only thing else that he could think of to try and rectify the situation,

"And could you please pass the salt?"

'So much for attitude change,' he thought to himself, as Burt passed the salt to Carole who passed it to Finn who passed it to him.

He was certain his cheeks were two seconds from flame.


	10. The Timing

**WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS THIS?! AN UPDATE?! Hi, it's me, it's been about, well, a year. :/ I have no excuses. I simply just got fed up with Glee because ugggh continuity, and uggggh what have you done to Klaine, and uggggh everything, so I lost interest in my fics. But I was looking over the old reviews, and you guys have been so nice to me, and you deserve a conclusion, so I am going to try and finish this one at the very least. (Handling It fans, I will endeavor to work to finish that one too, but it's harder to write, and has gotten away from me a bit, so I don't want to make more promises I can't keep. I will simply say that I will try.) **

**If you still want to read this, then you are a God-send, and if you're all like, "no, screw you, you made me wait for a million years for an update," then I do not blame you. I just hope you won't hate me forever.**

**Also, keep in mind that this is still in the end-of-season-2-verse, and I have not included any canon after that, because the canon after that is stupid and I don't like it. :) Reminders: Blaine is still a Warbler, Puck and Zizes are together, Kurt and Blaine are in the same year, etc. **

**Okay, without further adieu, the next chapter of Let's Talk about IT!**

The Timing

Kurt escaped from the table at the first opportunity. This was becoming habitual, this dashing away from awkward situations red faced and horrified. He lied to himself, pretending he just really needed to get his homework done, which would have been a better excuse if he hadn't already done everything that was due for the next day.

He settled for re-writing French sentences using the present perfect tense (he needed the review anyhow). He barely paid attention though, so the lesson was lost on him. All he could focus on was the all too recent memory of his father's face when the words, "sexually frustrated" barreled out of his mouth like train a steaming down the track. If Finn's horrific intrusion was better than a cold shower, the thought of his dad knowing about his "problem" would be the equivalent of dipping himself in the Arctic Ocean, for the foreseeable future.

"Knock knock," Carole's voice rang out, making Kurt jump. He looked up from his French sentences to see his stepmother smiling warmly at him from his open door. "Can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah," Kurt said hesitantly, gesturing for her to have a seat on his bed. He non-discreetly moved his most recent issue of Cosmo off the comforter and into his desk drawer. Carole took the offer and settled down on the mattress. Kurt waited patiently for her, and she took a deep breath and let it out in a huff.

Uh-oh, Kurt thought.

But no, there was no way Carole was up in his room to discuss what he was pretty sure she was there to discuss. Because he could deal with Finn, Mercedes, Brittney and Santana, Puck and Zizes, and even Rachel and her insane dads, but this was Carole, and Carole reminded him of his dad, and just. No.

But Kurt knew better. He'd faced this situation too many times in the past few weeks, and he felt it in his gut what was coming. Carole didn't _avoid_ his room, per say, but it was his area, and they didn't generally converge up there, and they certainly didn't sit down just to chat at random. Normally, if Carole or Kurt wanted bonding time, one of them would propose a latte date, and they'd go to Lima Bean and discuss school, work, fashion, and everything under the sun. Today was different, and that made Kurt's insides twist painfully.

"So, dinner tonight," Carole started, confirming Kurt's fears. He groaned, and leaned over, letting his forehead hit his desk with a pathetic "thud".

"Do we have to?" he asked his neat scrawl on the notebook paper he'd been practicing on.

"Yeah, 'fraid we have to, kiddo," came Carole's response.

"Why?" Kurt asked, suddenly more angry than embarrassed. He shot back up, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave Carole a _look_. "For weeks now, I haven't been able to turn the corner without someone saying to me, 'hey Kurt, you should masturbate more,' or 'hey Kurt, here's how you have sex with men,' but no one ever asks me if I want this information. Everyone just piles it on me, ignoring my questions and my concerns, just telling me what they think I should know, and it's getting overwhelming, Carole, so whatever you have to say, I think I can do without it!"

Carole just watched him patiently as he breathed heavily, waiting for him to calm down. Finally, when the tense air lessened a bit, she just gave him another kind smile and said, "Kurt, honey, that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about."

Kurt blinked.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Carole reached over and put a comforting hand on his elbow, as she said, "This isn't something your dad is putting me up to, or anything like that. If he feels like he needs to talk to you, then you know he will. I just… I guess I just wanted to throw my two cents into this conversation. I know he gave you a _talk_ a while back-"

"Don't remind me."

"-But I think, and correct me if I'm wrong, but I think the circumstances have changed a bit since then. Would you say that's right?"

"I…guess," Kurt said, shrugging. For someone who so determinedly avoided everything hot and raunchy, Kurt had probably had had more sex talks than anyone he knew.

"How is your relationship with Blaine?"

"Non-sexual, if that's what you're asking."

"That's not what I'm asking," Carole said gently. "I want to know how your relationship is. How do you feel about him? Where do you see yourself going with it? Tell me about everything."

Kurt was dumbstruck for just a moment, because in all the talks he'd had thus far there had been so little to do with Blaine. Kurt didn't realize how bizarre this was until Carole was sitting there asking him to talk about his boyfriend, and he had to struggle to think up the words to describe it. He'd spent so much time worrying about _being_ with Blaine, that he forgot to think about what it was just... being with Blaine.

"It's great," he said finally. "Wonderful. He matches my talent musically, he's smart, _gorgeous_, he's a year behind me in French so I get to tutor him and hear him botch the language so _adorably_, and I know he's in that uniform pretty much 24/7, but when he's not he has such a good sense of fashion, Carole, I can't even tell you." Kurt babbled on, and stopped, embarrassed, at Carole's beaming face. "What?" he asked, suddenly bashful.

"That's what I want you to remember, Kurt," she said gently. "Because you know everyone and their dog has an opinion about sex, but only you know what it's like to be with Blaine. You can't base your choices off of what everyone says. In this case, you have to base what you do on your experiences with this one other person."

"But I am so clueless about this stuff, Carole," Kurt argued, sounding miserable. "How can I make decisions like that if I don't even know what I'm deciding?"

"Asking for advice is fine, sweetie, but don't let everyone make the choices for you. Honestly, letting a bunch of teenagers, who are probably just about as clueless as you, just better at hiding it, isn't going to solve your problem. It's just going to make it more complicated."

"I'm more confused about this whole sex thing than I was before everyone started trying to teach me."

"Exactly. And through this whole thing, have you even asked yourself the most important question?"

"What's that?"

"Do you want to have sex with Blaine?"

"That's all I've been thinking about," Kurt said, confused, but Carole shook her head.

"But have you really thought about it? Sure you've thought of the consequences, and maybe even the benefits, but have you thought about what it would be like to share that experience with Blaine? Are you ready for him to know you that intimately? Is your relationship strong enough to take it? Those are the things you should be deciding right now. Everything else? You'll learn in time." She shrugged. "You need to have sex when you're ready to have sex, Kurt. Now when everyone else is ready for you to."

"Thank you," was all Kurt could think to say. Carole smiled as she stood.

"Anytime, and I mean that." She started for the door. "Oh and Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't take sex advice from Cosmo, alright?"

And of course, Kurt blushed.

000

About an hour later, Kurt was on his back staring at his ceiling, still thinking about what Carole had said to him. It had been a refreshing conversation, but it still left him with new complications to consider. He reached over on his bedside table and grabbed his phone. He dialed the number by heart.

"Hey," Blaine's voice said on the other end after just two rings.

"Hey, sorry, I know it's getting late, I didn't wake you or anything, did I?"

"At ten o'clock? Yeah right," he said laughing. "Haven't even started my homework yet."

"Don't make me drive out there and make you do it, Blaine Anderson," Kurt said, grinning.

"You know, telling me I'll get to see you if I don't do my homework isn't the best threat."

"Fine, then I'll refuse to see you unless you get straight A's."

Blaine faked a gasp. "You wouldn't dare, Hummel."

"Watch me."

"I'd have to come find you myself."

"I'd hide."

"I'd pretend to be John Cusack and stand outside your window with a stereo and play bad love songs until you agreed to see me."

"That only happens in the movies," Kurt said, laughing. "Besides, I'd rather hear your voice."

"Then I'll sing you bad love songs outside your window until you agreed to see me."

"That has a better chance of working. Maybe. Only if you got nothing lower than a B."

"I could probably manage that."

"Good, I'd hate not seeing you."

"I'd hate it more. Hey, not that I'm complaining, but you don't normally call at this time. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just wanted to hear your voice. I guess I just feel like I haven't really gotten to be with you in a while."

"I know what you mean. You free this weekend? We could see a movie, get dinner, my treat?"

"Do I get to pick the movie?"

"Of course."

"Then count me in."

"Looking forward to it."

"Alright, well, I'll let you get back to your homework, which you _had_ _better_ _be doing_, but I'll call you sometime tomorrow, alright?"

"Sounds good. I love you."

Kurt's heart still fluttered whenever he heard Blaine say that. If stomach butterflies were any indication, then Carole was spot on. What mattered here wasn't what other people thought he should do—what mattered is what Blaine wanted to do, and what he wanted to do with Blaine. It really was that simple.

"Love you too," Kurt replied, feeling a sense of calm wash over him that he hadn't felt in ages. Hanging up the phone, he got ready for bed, and slept better than he had in weeks.

But of course calm never lasts.

Which is how, bright and early the next morning, before the first bell had even rung, Kurt found himself face to face with Quinn Fabray, who was shoving about twenty condoms in his face.

Maybe, he thought to himself miserably, it wasn't so simple after all.


End file.
